The Romans came
With armour shining in the mid-day sun,
With muscles rippling as they heaved the stones
To build a fortress.
Down the coast
They raised an altar to a pagan god.
But they fell.
In later times
The stones were shaped into a house of prayer
That dwelt in soft rain and in calm blue skies;
A tower of love
To live down through the years,
Gently blessing those who lie
Forever safe in warm earth,
Under the stones reflecting sunlight
And the gift of peace.
Swords into ploughshares,
Rest after battle,
(c) Executors of the late Eunice Barnett