A spiders web breaks the ocean of dark,
Alexandria‘s matrix, gold under
the stretching wing.
My eyes catch with wonder
the cross of night over Africa’s start.
How is the city that has left its mark
on wisdom and war? Do you still slumber,
or will unrest
cause the sound of thunder
once more, to tear your heated streets apart?
The lights fade into the returning dark.
Easing the chair, I tuck myself under
the free blanket.
Removed from the wonder
I cross the night into Africa’s heart.
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Comments about this poem (Flight by Diana Rosser )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
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