Light In The Steeple

Oh the years I spent in that steeple!

Alone in the bell tower I sat;

Always watching the world below.

They knew not of me, but I knew them.

There were many wonderful people,

But to most I would ne'er tip my hat.

Sunny days were always slow alone,

And the lonely nights I wished to hem.

My steeple looked out across green hills.

It was a beautiful view from there:

Blue skies forever, sparkling streams,

Rolling hills, and stratospheric peaks.

But, I looked through these optical thrills.

My eyes loved what my heart did not care. 

I would ponder the bell my hand cleans.

Why is it this that I must there seek?

For, I gazed upon far distant bells.

I would toll the steeple's bell in hope

Of hearing one of their sweet chimes back.

My knell resonated through the hills, 

For my waiting ear could always tell.

I waited for them to toss a rope.

But, their sweet music there was a lack.

Then, the sun came through the tower's sills.

I opened my eyes and ran up top.

It was a brilliantly clear day;

Light was shining on a new steeple.

I had not seen this tower before.

I then sounded my bell with a hop.

Now, there was then the dreaded delay.

Oh, I saw movement in that steeple!

And its knell fell on me like a score.

I let my bell sing to the new sky,

And my belle gave a welcomed reply.