Some thoughts upon leaving the hotel enroute to Vatican City: I love these old buildings with their peeling facades, broken yet still standing, with years and years of living packed into their walls. There is beauty in their decay; strength in their crumbling; wisdom in their silent reflection of past glory. And all this while hosting yet another new generation of tenants, who will add yet another chapter to their story. Of course, it inspired a poem.
Old Walls
I love old walls
draped in greenery
their peeling faces
squinting out of past pain
broken but never vanquished.
Smothered in stories
heavy with hope
they smile indulgently
at another new age.
History lies buried
beneath their feet.
Layer after layer
speak volumes of
glory and despair.
Yet old walls survive
as witness
to one more
display of
magnificence
that is
Rome.
© E.M. Ramos 2/27/2009
2 comments:
Nice!
I'm going to link to your Italy posts so that if anyone wants to hear more about the trip they can look at your notes. I'm posting Pisa and Verona on Saturday.
Love, T.
I love this poem. Cannot wait to see the pictures of the old walls to go with it...and maybe of a few old Italians, too.
with love from Kathy
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