Remains In the Museum
Who were you, witness prized.
telling all manner of things
Who were you, sincere, wise,
voice quiet and hushed,
beloved by mankind?
Stranger bathe in crystal light
Now spoken of ad nauseam.
but no longer alive,
frigid as a city mausoleum
You, blossom of wisdom,
conscience, essence,
benevolence, kindness
Were you the feet on warm sand?
The rumble of stone on a mountain pass?
Did your people imbue some ancient glade,
breathe wood smoke?
Were you followed by a child's eye,
unafraid, telling stories
Touching their minds
as you now touch mine
Copyright © Declan Molloy | Year Posted 2015
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