By the Tiber

Forgotten ghosts blow
down empty streets with
leaves, fallen and dead.

Only the wind talks and
its fleeting memories
never saw prayers here –

The echoes whisper of
Jerusalem as it is,
Not of how it was then.

Empty. Only cool air escapes
without carrying words
of joy or celebration.

Not a single tongue remains
to touch the three words
most prized, most loved,

As forgotten ghosts
blow down empty streets
with the leaves,

Feet lost with mourning.

By the Tiber

Advertisements

So, what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s