Lonely and ominous,
With one great spire stretching up into the night sky,
And a full moon stuck just at its tip,
Like the end of a lollipop.
The bell is eroded,
Its sound dull and depressing.
The enormous arched doorway has been locked,
Though its carved decorations still sing silently.
A polished cross arrogantly dominates the wall above,
And sometime in the past - I can't remember when -
I have tacked a road sign just below,
That frightens when I read it,
And it says, 'End Road'.
