White Steepled Church – form poetry

by Colly

personal photo


From a white steeple;

members said, “I do.”

There is my love, my

lofty Betty-loo. In the pew

a-fore this row,

a keen lad nay

understood the word,

“no.”  From a white steeple;

I lay lonely as wind’s blows.

Whistles through the pine and grail.

Ain’t much else – to tell – except hold thy gal.

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