poet

Elizabeth Madox Roberts

by this poet

poem
The church has pieces jutting out 
Where corners of the walls begin. 
I have one for my little house, 
And I can feel myself go in. 

I feel myself go in the bricks, 
And I can see myself in there. 
I'm always waiting all alone, 
I'm sitting on a little chair. 

And I am sitting very still, 
And I am waiting on