POETRY

Thoughts By A Pond in the Forum

A poem

Ruins in the Forum © A. Harrsion

Strands of emerald moss stretch across The water. A pond where Romans once lingered, Seeking relief from a blazing sun. Trailing my fingers across the cool surface Fish speckled with gold nibble at my nails. They rise randomly from the shadowed depths; Like my thoughts.

A gentle tickle, a flash of color and then they’re back, Vaguely looking for something while forgetting They were here but a few moments ago. The buildings around me are old, worn, beautiful. So I might be one day.

I sit outside time, untethered, at the end of weary roads Let the dead years flow over the horizon: They’ve held me prisoner for too long. I won’t walk back to a place I don’t want to be.

Did the Roman legions feel the same As the sun of Florentia played peacefully Across their backs, working a land Granted for long service? All the while Unaware of the wonder to flourish centuries later As Florence. Perhaps they were too busy remembering The glories of Rome, or trying to forget Much of what they saw.

Maybe, as I remove the debris from my mind, I’ll stumble across a cobblestone path under the rubble, Untrodden.

View from a nearby street over the Forum © A. Harrsion

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