It started out like every other morning;
The church waqs lit, friendly, as usual.
Checking the sanctuary's time with mine,
I proceeded down the aisle to wait.
My back was turned, I did not see it happen;
But my ears heard plainly what occurred.
A venerable lamp globe split the silence,
And tinkled to the frightened pews below.
The shattered air turned all heads to the rear;
Our eyes, up, until we saw it plain.
A grey waft of tired smoke escaped from the lamp,
The old familiar yellow gleam was gone.
It had leaked down into the pews and vanished
With the tinkling slivers of frosty glass.