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Poetry Pleases: The Lady Chapel

Here's another poem by Caroline Glyn.

Shallow-pillared and light as a buttercross,
there the market women knew where they were.
Her cool flaps are home to them, and she
always ready to smile at a bit of gossip.
Now a forgotten place, circled, enclosed,
seldom found by visitors, but filled
daily with unwatched light, awake
with laughter, as they stroke each other's cheek -
he with his orb, she with her long loose hair -
merry as lovers, each in Joy of other.

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