A Cliff Dwelling Poem by James McLain
A Cliff Dwelling
The valley where they used to come and age.
Marking wall's to showcase lined with years.
The hidden children chip away each race.
Trails that lead up to the open ledge.
Unsold the soul's that came to rest before.
The yellow sun, dry searing sand.
Each speck of dust the wind it moans stirs up.
Each dark mouth that leads us deep inside.
Was where I found the broken bones and hides.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/10/2024 7:14:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
