It was an eerily, silent Saturday morn.
Christ’s disciples were scared, forlorn.
They crowned Him King, they could’ve sworn.
What an awfully silent Saturday morn.
‘Twas an equally silent Saturday noon.
As sorrow plagued each heart with gloom.
Their fearless leader had met His doom.
What a terribly silent Saturday noon.
Came a hauntingly silent Saturday night.
The mind of each follower filled with fright.
Would never the Christ reappear in their sight?
What an eternal and silent Saturday night.
To be continued …