I don’t belong to your Parish, though I sit in the company of silent friends each day and tell them my woes.

Never an interruption experienced, they just listen, without comment or judgement and as I tell them of my trials and tribulations, a sense of peace pervades.

I’ve no doubt they’ve seen and heard it all before, not a single eyebrow raised or quiet disapproving tut, just the rustle of the leaves on the trees and the smell of cut grass.

I don’t belong to your Parish, but as I sit amongst the gravestones, I am grateful for the company of those resting in it.


Annie Read