With the gown cassock I was given and a white stocken that was stolen
A hall that was crowded by strange people and pews so narrow like the door to heaven
I shaped myself in an attire of an immaculated matriculated habitude.
I was subdued by the haphazard appraisal of some good men of boon.
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A beautiful experience poetically captured. Got a 10. Please kindly check my poems HOPE and THE BEAUTY OF DEATH and leave your comments.