Like
blood through
lungs, I sapped it dry:
Great
Rome, amid a summer, vast.
Such
majesty still in supply
Although a thousand years had passed–
I drank the rich and sunlit sky
As it grew dark. Those
mellow nights
Of stars and wine upon the roof
Have all but faded, leaving lights
Of
sordid yellow begging proof
That we were there. The lofty heights
Of
monstrous monuments reside
Still in my memory, although
Each time I sigh, the memories slide
Out of my head and form a snow
About my
sandalled feet. I tried
So hard to keep those photographs
Pinned on the wall, when other things
Were more important than the laughs
Of friends forgotten, and of springs
And fountains never filled by halves;
And yet, somehow, I have gone blind.
I swore I never would, but now
That
vow seems
vague and far behind:
Each time I sigh, I can see how
The life of
Rome escapes my mind.
A NightWriter original