Tall towers stand proud
Giants of the plains
Stone fortresses, erected fierce
Now begin to crumble.
A girl touches their stones
Once they were solid, firm
Under her fingers they fall apart
To dust noble rock returns.
She travels the passageways
Her imagination capturing
The stories written permanently
In tonnes of aging stone.
She hears the laughter
Of a dozen happy kings
She hears the tears
Of many a heartbroken dame
She smells the clear breeze
As if it were the air
Of hundreds of years past
Carrying shouts and trumpet calls
Underneath her feet
Dirt covers the once-fine floors
Tapestries lay in heaps
Now not more than fibers.
She sees the grandeur
Of a castle alight with life's glow
The glamor and terror
Of existence existed here.
She feels the cool, crumbling rock
The uncertainty of the planks
Underneath her feet
And ponders those who walked before.
The heavy boots of armored soldiers
The soft slippers of a lady
The rags of her hundred servants
And the dirt feet of their children
She can taste the feasts
Of celebration and victory
And the rage of losses
Drowned in endless drink
How many a birth?
How many a death?
How many a marriage?
How much history?
Enough to fill the walls
With echoes of old tales
The stone sees all
The rock does not die.
YOU ARE READING
Life When Living Awake
Poesia• sequel to A Book of Rhyme, Rhythm, and Time • Life goes on. "Life When Living Awake" explores joy, heartbreak, hurt, loneliness, and learning how to get back up and keep trying. It's about being loved and being hurt and healing from the hurt whil...
