Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Pastor (11/30/06)
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TITLE: The Hour Before Midnight | Previous Challenge Entry
By william price
12/06/06 -
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In an ancient stone hearth.
Their flame fills the room
With a tranquil warm mirth.
An old pale pastor
Holds a picture and weeps;
Of a grave gone cold
Where his helpmate now sleeps.
His mind mulls over
The night Mary took leave;
‘Twas the hour before midnight
On Christmas Eve.
The days drag slowly
When the season comes near.
Its smell stings his chest
Like a steely cold spear.
Not one cooked cookie
Or a turkey in foil;
The spruce in the yard
Remains planted in soil.
His home stays pristine
So the pastor can grieve--
At the hour before midnight
On Christmas Eve.
Her voice still solos
In his empty sore heart.
She sings All The Night
And he relives each part.
He hears bright angels
With a carol outside:
Their song seems so real
He must open his eyes.
Out past his porch light
Are his elders on knees;
At the hour before midnight
On Christmas Eve
They left loved families
At home nestled in bed.
They hold hands and pray
For their shepherd instead.
The old pale pastor
Feels the presence of Hope.
Pure peace heals his pain
With the power to cope.
Out on the front lawn
Bow Sam, Adam and Steve;
‘Twas the hour before midnight
On Christmas Eve.
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This evoked some sadness in me, which is a good thing. I do agree that the rhythm could flow a little better, but all in all, I like this. Good job!