City of the Forgotten

Along a noisy roadway

comes a very quiet place

a city of the forgotten(--)

where the buildings stand in rows;

like guide posts for the winds

it does not shiver cold

or despair burning heat

stones without voice, heedless

of time and change.

This old and public place,

home for mosses and lichen

greened by drizzles in spring, later

wears a cloak of white

no footprints to reveal

the comings and goings of love.

And beneath the fallen fluff

the unswept leaves of fall

cover seeds, fallen birds nests

and petals first, last spring

and beneath yet all of these

are lessons from deeper reasons passed

I watch among the buzz of flies

flaps of rising birds, in silence

that teaches of life – a precious season…

leaves no permanent scars.