Tower Cross
Inspired by a paining at the Wilson Gallery March 2017
The bridge was fragmented arches
Three of them, crossing the river
With grey stone feet
Growing slimy from the water
The spill and stuck around them
Remnants of a tower still rose
On one side, but not it’s twin
Nothing but decay
Little windows stared blank eyed
At clouds shattered by row boats
Wakes
People still lived here, in the shadows
Behind jagged triangles of wall
Make shift tents, hardly holding together
Moth eaten and thread bare
They never sort the shelter of the stones
Beyond the gate bridge stood the city
Devolved and reverting
The people knew the horror of it
A tower and a bridge
In ruins – guarding
The Hall of Ghosts
No one wanted the resurgence
Not of that evil
The boats carried seeds
Encouraging natures engulfment
A warm rain added deadly ripples
To the tranquil stream
Posted: Saturday, August 29th, 2020 @ 11:54 am
Categories: From Art, Poems, The Sight.
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