Monday, 23 November 2015

Poem for Monday: Ruins at Mycenae

by Katie Green






Proud they stood,
Whole and complete,
After years of strain and                    
Tireless work.

A beacon of civilisation,
Throughout the land,
Drawing people to them like
Moths to a flame.

An age of glory passed, and
Still they stayed.
Fracked and weather-beaten,
But still there.

Empty they remained.
Secret.
Abandoned.
Forgotten.

Until the wanderers came,
Staying for a few nights, the left.
They must have spoken of it, for
Soon a steady trickle, seeking shelter was established.

Time spun on,
Though it was hardly noticed.
They were now so old,
What was a few more days, weeks, years?

Still they came,
Filling it's walls with
Talk and laughter once more,
Flashes as they captured pieces to take away with them.

Though every nightfall,
As the short, flickering lives leave,
It is once again alone,
Awaiting the new dawn and the countless more that will come.

Always empty.
No longer secret.
Sometimes abandoned.

But never forgotten.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Comments with names are more likely to be published.