Line By Line
These stoic tablets with select or no voice stand as soldiers at their post.
Each etched by man and time showing numbered days and weathered demeanor.
Maybe a phrase ,maybe a verse,maybe a statement, all a reflection or a hope or a cry,but they carry nothing living.
Most hold a name,some may not ,but all point to every ones destined finish, no matter what their living station. Most visited once ,less a few times and others a diminishing number,as time has not stopped for the living.
But for those past time in this field,
what of their legacy? Their impact? Their contribution to mankind?
Is that written down? Remembered? Or are these held hostage behind the vines of time that would camouflage each accomplishment,each service to mankind,even each wrong or theft of decency.
Each left a mark, for each breached time,as these markers show line by line.
headstones overgrown with vines in an old cemetery.
9/25/16
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
