Deer in the park remind me of the freedom
of youth, innocence long gone, resting in the
grey stones of the Fair Lady of the West Riding.
She waits, like a dowager queen, for attention,
knowing that some pay her homage in small
tokens of love, like tickets at the gate.
So long, at the gate, the porters opened doors
for the guests, the rich, the poor, the lost
wanting the security of the arms of Mary.
She, too, waits, for England to return
to her. She waits for her sons and
daughters to find themselves again.
Lost children walk the paths of old
prayers and longings for God.
But, they are too busy to know
the quiet of the place, which is only
found inside and not in the bustle
of pilgrimage or holidays...
Time is speeding up
and all is shortened..
visions truncated
by the lack
of love.
