U. S. Highway One North of Titusville
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The concrete church, Christ white, could not afford
A steeple pointing up to crystal sea.
The concrete blocks could only whisper, “Lord,”
Rectangular that word, no belling plea
For seeking out of souls along the road,
The concrete road in front of bell-less church.
The boringest of little blossoms brought the mode
Of this white painted building. Hearts in search
Might miss the message blocked up in the space
Because no steeple pointed to their needs.
More like a crenelated fortress place
The structure was with highway fence of weeds.
Plain reverence waited day by day inside,
More like an altar-less abandoned bride.
Note: the poet’s ⇑ childhood church
had written across the wall behind the pulpit,
“REVERENCE MY SANCTUARY”—in medieval script.
In the photograph (not tampered with by AI) are (left to right): Phillip Whidden, Woodrow Wilson Whidden II, Tommy Delnero and Frankie Delnero. In the background on the far right the lady in the coat is the poet’s mother, Helen Belle Wilson Whidden.
© Phillip Whidden 
A heartwarming tribute to a place that was formative in your life and that of your siblings! Love the photo!
Lourdes, I very seldom check to see if someone has commented here. I only just now saw your response. Of course I’m glad you liked the sonnet and the pic.