Antique Wind
It is springtime
in the south-land
and as always..
listen if you can
Listen..
there is creaking
of caisson wheels
..sounds
of skirmishes
and
flags
flapping..
still there..
cries and moans
of those gone on
muted
beneath
the spring wind
Remember..
remember
Brother
against brother
..no one could win
Only the fool would
think that they did
What was torn apart
was put back
together again
but its cracks are found
always by the soft
spring wind
A nation reborn
with sad stories
to tell..
still hums
a mournful song
of a time
when all
stumbled
and fell
©2006 Faye Sizemore
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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