Memory by: Adam N. Duran (The Forgotten Poet) Poem by Adam N. Duran (The Forgotten Poet)

It was a land rich with both joy and misery.
A place where dreams once found serenity.
In a thicket that stored thy odyssey.
But is now only lost to memory.

Here marble stones laid its path.
Once upon a yore, these stones lay flat.
Now some are lost and some are cracked.
Consumed in moss, their beauty no longer intact.

I travel now with fright from sound;
that haunts thy sight I found.
with a sleep that may not abound.
Now so weak and weary, these things compound.

With in that grove of weeping willows;
left decaying with rot, where life resides not.
For the ash stains the roots below.
And it is here in this grave, death now is sought.

Ivy vines consumed the mind;
like a weed forgotten with time.
Strangling what was mine;
in a somber land once sublime.

There rests an eroded castle, made from this marble mountain.
Housing that crumbling fountain,
in which water doth not spout from.
Still holding forgotten riches of thy tarnished and lost pittance.

It's an unrecognizable home, I had once called thy own.
A forgotten fire devastated this ruin of charcoaled bone.
Remnants of seeds once sown;
sights of which are now unknown.

Stairs leading to an empty nowhere;
that once led to a place of care.
But alas, no landing resides there;
just a crumbling floor in disrepair.

Atop such stairs, a window made of crystal glass;
now broke allowing wind to pass.
Shards stained black from soot and gas;
lay amass, upon the floor thick with ash.

and out that now broken window;
I see those burnt and decaying willows.
Where greed of ivy weed now overflows.
It is this once green paradise I shall nevermore behold.

In this now empty and dyeing quarry;
mined bare with a now forgotten story.
And though I shalt not age another day this century…
Time is not thy only enemy!
Hince this decaying land that is… my memory.