Our Lady’s Church in lofty brick
A towering splendour - metres thick
Gives shelter in the pouring rain
Though Baroque altar shows the strain.
The only reason pilgrims swarm
And tread the flagstones cracked and worn
Is to filter past in silent flow
An oeuvre by Michelangelo.
In purest marble, white as snow
This statue has an inner glow
Commissioned by the Siennese
“Our Lady and the Christ Child” pleased
A passing merchant fresh from Bruges
Whose wealth was such that he could choose
This peerless artwork for his city
Now dust-encrusted shrine – a pity!
Behind plate glass and for a fee
For a moment each of us may be
Caught in quiet meditation
Before a lone man’s inspiration.
(c) Poet in the woods 2014
I entered this poem for the "Fans of Flanders" writing
competition - June-July 2014 - it didn't win.