You stand like a lily amongst weeds,
sowing the seeds
of joy and beauty.
Mayhem all around
and yet you abound
in blissful ignorance.
Tyres on tarmac
constantly droning, screeching, moaning.
Buses, cars, trams and trains,
never sleeping,
all keeping pollution going.
Mobile chats flowing.
The whole a tuneless monotone.....
And yet I hear those proud bells
chiming out the hour.
Proud, like that pure white flower.
Among weeds.....
Francesca Johnson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-church-bells-of-croydon/
