History's Cry
By Cinara
History's Cry I can hear the voice's whisper On the course of history's flight Eyes record a vision crisper Than the words on page of white Pens have sketched an artist's picture Of our ancestors of fame Much more colorful and richer Are the footsteps of a name Witten records lead us halfway Through their rippled looking glass Walking on their weathered pathway Brings to view the living past In the mind's imagination Within eye's insightful view Out of tender heart's sensation Someone's life is born anew Standing on the edge of history Of an old New England town I can feel the joy and misery Veiling ancient tombstone's crown Only I have seen the stories Floating off the written page Words of deeds and phrase of glory Yellow now with weathered age Into history deeply mired Voices fill a billowed sail Sea gull is the new town crier Centuries old his squawking tale Written April 20th, 2002 © on Apr 20 2002 06:05 AM PST 0 • 10
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"History's Cry..."