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In Church One Sunday

Updated on April 3, 2016

One Sunday in the church down the street,

I saw a little girl ever so sweet,

Dressed all in white, she looked so neat,

from the top of her head, down to her feet.

X

She sat very still, not moving a hair,

As I stood there, in the door, only able to stare,

I didn't move, something wouldn't let me dare,

To break the soft silence, I somehow, couldn't bare.

X

Then, in the silence, I heard a soft sigh,

And I realized, the child had started to cry,

With each soft sob, my sunlight, faded, seemed to die,

Until my heart along with her, seemed to cry.

X

Why was she crying, I just had to find out,

If someone had hurt her I would go after the lout,

I started down the aisle, with many a doubt,

After all, "Who are you?", she would probably shout.

X

But, as I reached the pew in which she sat,

She looked up at me with the bluest eyes that I 've seen yet,

She had to be the most beautiful child on the face of the earth, I'd have bet,

But the sorrow in her face was the worst I think I've ever met.

X

I smiled, and sat down next to her,

She said, "I'm sorry if I bothered you, sir."

I knew deep down she wasn't the type of child to disturb,

She said, "I knew of no better place to turn."

X

I told her not to worry, that she hadn't bothered me,

I said, "Because, I once had a little girl, like you, you see."

And I thought, my little girl would be about the same age as she,

I realized, the hurt of losing her, was still very keen.

X

She asked me what had happened to my little girl,

So I told her how my wife had beaten our little girl,

My eyes began to water, and everything became a blur,

And the hurt and pain, surrounded me in a silent whirl.

X

I could see again the woman I married, on that night so wild,

I remembered the suffering all through the long trial,

I remembered the funeral, and the people, as around me they filed,

To see the dead body of my little lost child.

X

I sat there and let everything out,

When I had finished she looked like she would like to strike out,

I laid one hand on hers and said in doubt,

Would you like to tell me what your crying was about.

X

She told me that I wouldn't really like to hear,

She told me most of it was only from her fear,

Then she told me it was her step-father, so I drew near,

Her voice became sad, and devoid of any cheer.

X

Her father had died, and her mother had remarried,

And her step-father's child her mother now carried,

She knew she was hated by the man her mother had married,

And she cried and said her life was now so scary.

X

She said that now she couldn't do anything right,

That everyday now there was always a fight,

She said that now she tries to stay out of sight,

She said she hated him with all her might.

X

I wanted to hold her and stop her from crying,

My heart seemed to be bleeding, I felt it was dying,

I longed to know more, but I didn't want to seem prying,

I told her it would all work out, I just hope I wasn't lying.

X

We sat, and talked on for a little while longer,

Strange, but the more we talked, the more I felt stronger,

I knew now that only a child, could fill that empty hole in my heart,

With a renewed sense of wonder, I realized I was ready, a new life to start.

X

We never got around to asking each other's names,

But since that day, I haven't been quite the same,

I have walked this city over, searching in vain,

For a little girl, dressed in white, without a name.

X

I've asked all the members, if they have seen or knew,

Of the beautiful child with the eyes of blue,

But, each person so far says, they haven't a clue,

And some may doubt my sanity, but I know it's true.

X

That one Sunday, in our church, down the street,

I did see, a little girl ever so sweet,

Dressed all in white, and so very neat,

From the top of her little head, down to her feet.

by Pamlia Wall

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