the tower

Around which they stand
unshakeable, proud, masters of all
the reason that lies behind
every move, each carefree step,
brick upon brick, fired,
a memory, then layered to a common tune
in the background, gently humming
old man with his stick, holding hands,
love at its first, and last,
this was us, our dream and now,
just a whisper, rubble
to fumble through for crumbs
to comfort the cold and forgotten

Unblemished by joy, the child with her shawl,
no protection from this barren life,
bare, for all who still see
this weathered face, trust destroyed,
all warmth and womanly instinct
seeped out for a well worn page,
insatiable lust, long forgotten

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!