The ghosts of years, long since past, dim now are their memories of lives once vast. Their blue cloudless skies, have grayed above, forever silenced from a world once loved.
Apparitions wander ruins of a crumbling world, through fading light of the ages, endless and unfurled. Alone with whispers carried upon a chilling breeze, murmurs of the forgotten dead, speaking from across the seas.
I detect a stong Celt or perhaps Gaelic influence in this one...nicely done.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on August 12, 2011
Ah, interesting that you should pen this particular piece of very well-written poetry now. I'm taking a break from watching "Gone with the Wind." It has been many years since I have seen this movie. I enjoyed your poem, Shay, thank you.
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