Poem 210815



confined in an open space.

The air travels

seeking for something

but all it finds

is hollow aisles.

The sun warms

empty corners left behind,

holding loud and silent echoes

of lives that once roamed around.

And when night falls,

the moon and stars watch

over the freezing walls

that mourn the remembrance

of the muted screams of fatality.

an Inspiration Sunday poem
poetry about how history speaks to us at historical sites