DM Babbit Poet Rhyme

Segovia and Madrid

Terracotta dreams alight
 in rising Roman aqueducts
 slipping in twilight hours of the night
 where mysterious Spanish memories are plucked;
a momentary plunge 
 with Hercules standing muscle-bound 
 from which olden images are hung
 as winds rise without a sound;
a flare in dance upon the castle floors
 to pray a prayer aloud
 beyond grand cathedral doors
 holding visions authentic to each crowd;
slip in and out the corridors of legacy
 Segovia and Madrid, the old Alcazar,
 where history lay in wait splendidly
 and time marches on, near and far;
these are mere images that remain
 to tell a story old yet true
 by which history is framed
 a place, a legend, a story not new;
let it rise, let it stay
 mysteries laid in the past
 while awe and beauty grace the day
 and visions and dreams race fast.

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Quoth Theraven July 21, 2019 at 12:55 AM DM Babbit, With a flourish of pen I write upon the gifted page. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand-- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep--while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? -E.A. Poe