Ladies of solitude

Ladies of solitude, sisters on high,
give thanks to their Master, not one day goes by.
Performing their duties, no words and no sound,
With passion they labour, by vows they are bound.
Their habits disguise their womanly trait,
They serve but one faith, there’s no room for delight.
In pairs and in groups, God’s work never done,
Their labour of love does not set with the Sun.
Chapped hands are now joined in earnest despair,
when Vesper bells call, all it’s pilgrims to prayer.
The main fare is meagre, no fancy or fuss,
Then curfew is called at the end of repast.
Nothing left but to wander, down the long hallowed halls,
Where grey walls await them, till the morning bell tolls.
– John Cerlienco © 2009