It stands there still,
that ancient wall
of Roman times
through wars gone wrong.
Its bricks, some crumbled,
yet holding strong
like childhood memories of long ago.
Feel the spirit
of the hands
that toiled with mortar
in a distant land,
whose eyes gazed yonder
beyond the knoll,
where the river runs, since days of old.
Tears dry up and
Dreams get packed and
Set sail on barges
the river timeless, its water cold.
The heart remains
to beat its drum
and tell its stories
one by one,
until a life from memories told
reveals its mystery to behold.
In quiet silence the river flows
Crumbled hands now
touch that wall
of newer times
through years gone wrong.
The heart still beating,
yet holding strong,
from childhood memories of long ago.
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