Winter Church

I stopped way out across the field
And walked back through the snow
To where the old church sat in state
Just like in years ago

And empty on this weekday morn
I heard a faint wind-chime
How many places have I loved
That I forgot
With time?

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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