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The Pilaster

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 and on 
For something that is never there, 
For something that is gone.

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Elizabeth Madox Roberts