ON EAGLE'S WINGS!
When I was young I lived my life
In a churchy atmosphere.
My father was a lay-reader
And he always made it clear
That Church was a very solemn place
Where flippancy was hidden,
And girlish giggles (there were lots)
Were certainly forbidden.
The hymns were always beautiful
But verging on funereal
And the ambience was theatrical
But also quite ethereal.
Recently I was in a church
To read some poetry.
'You can hop up to the lectern!'
The vicar said to me!
'But my poetry's very secular!'
I quickly then demurred.
'Some of my verses may sound wrong!
Are you sure they should be heard?'
'Go right ahead!' He gave a grin,
'We're now part of society!
I'm sure that you wont offer us
The slightest impropriety.'
For a moment I felt quite non-plussed
As I stood above the crowd!
Me and that golden eagle!
How could it be allowed!
But all went well and I relaxed.
I soon felt at my ease.
Not as though I and the venue
Were as different as chalk and cheese!
Later, when I considered it
I wondered how I'd have gone,
In the years of dour solemnity
I now look back upon,
If there'd been a bit of fun about,
A little bit of mirth,
A little nod, just now and then,
To the earthiness of earth.
Would I have turned away from Church
As I did without a doubt,
If I'd have felt relaxed within
As I did, I know, without?
There was I, in my new red jacket,
'Scarlet woman' or just plain me?
I know my Dad came to my mind!
I was glad he couldn't see!
I sympathise with the young lady here: