Shelly Stevens


The Tower Of The Moon


Swiftly following the sun
A whisper of a crescent moon
Nears the western edge
Of the world and
Sets behind an old tower
Of disintegrating clay bricks
Baked nearly to dust by
Thousands upon thousands of years
Of hot glaring sun
The half fallen fort
Defies the wind of
This high place and
Sits waiting for pashas
And priests and the
God-kings of the past
To sit at the watch
And see the first dust
Of an enemy's approach
Or the coming of Ozymandias
From the far side
Of the world

Submitted: Friday, March 22, 2013
Edited: Friday, March 22, 2013
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