Timbo
Timbo
Feb 28, 2011

The Old Vicar

An old man sits on a churchyard bench
with his memories of times long ago.
When he was the Vicar of the church
and the people he’d come to know.

He recalls when he married a couple
on an almost perfect summer’s day.
And how with joy in their young faces
they knelt there before him to pray.

He remembers when he christened twins
who cried the whole ceremony through.
Their mother tried to keep them quiet
but there was nothing she could do.

The church would be full at Christmas
with people standing near the door.
He wondered why they all came
but then didn’t come any more.

And he still remembers the burial
of a young man who died in a car.
Taking his dangerous love of speed
so tragically, a little bit too far.

Near where he sits’ there’s a young boy
kneeling by his Grandmother’s grave.
It’s nearly dark , under a cold wintry sky,
and he’s not really feeling very brave.

The young boy stands with the old man
saying “Grandpa it’s time for us to go ”.
They walk off hand in hand together
on a path now sprinkled with snow.

About This Poem

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Country/Region: GBR

Favorite Poets: Rather than poets I tend to be influenced by songwriters and have a love of lyrics.

More from this author

Comments

Psyve

Psyve

14 years 2 months ago

Touching, and a nice twist in the end.

Roscoe Lane

Nothing i would change, it's a great poem well thought out in rhyme and pace. Regards Roscoe...

Timbo

Hi Shirley,
Thank you once again for your comments and encouragement. I am especially pleased about what you have said about this one as I wasn't completely satisfied with it. I usually think in such cases it's better to let someone else have a look it as a fresh pair of eyes might see something I can't.
So your reassurance on this one has made my day!
take care,
Tim

S

I've read this 4 times. First read I saw many changes needed. By fourth reading I realized no changes would be best. A lovely touching write..................scribbler