pastor appreciation poem

stuff of the moon
there was a time in former years
here falls no light
she must go back, she said
weak-winged is song
it tells of good old times
were it not for that singular smell
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
do you remember
doubtless i remember still
days endeared to every muse
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
where shall i find you
backward, turn backward