The Bells

The Bells

You helped me stand to hear the bells

to breathe in Summer’s sights and smells

you took me out and held my hand

time falling by like grains of sand

the orange sunset glowing high

the swallows gliding through the sky

the young couples walking on

they don’t stop to hear the church bell song

reminding me of years gone by

of confetti, rice, of black cars and cries

the bells are like a breathing pulse

a beat upon which my life revolves

sitting inside both night and day

I hear those bells so far away

so when you took me out to hear

I felt as if my heart would cheer

your kind young face helping the old

to hear the bells, my story told

without your help, I’d never see

the sky, the street, the birds, the trees

just standing there and looking on

I felt connected, I felt I belong

but in we go, back to my fate

a lonely meal on a lonely plate

I’ll wait for you, for your visit next week

so I can stand and hear the spirits speak

 

Emily Tealady 2013

Prose for Thought

8 thoughts on “The Bells

Leave a Reply