Timeworn
Red, dull
in bright sunshine,
with edges worn, rounded.
The history of then
and now in each separation,
each drop that flows
between them a microcosm
of all that has passed, will pass,
the traffic of millennia
leaving impressions upon which
all that follows is built.
This poem is my response to Twiglet # 274: red bricks.
Shared with Day 16 at napowrimo.net.
rivrvlogr 
Oh, this is just friggin’ terrific, Ken.
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Thank you, sir!
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This is one of those all-encompassing pieces that’s timeless: Ukraine or Yemen or Korea or China … men and women… fabulous poem.
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Thank you. I sincerely appreciate that it can be seen in that context.
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So much to think about here, Ken.
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Thank you, Merril. This section of street, only a block long, was excavated and paved over a year after I took the photo. It’s as close to the river as any street in the city, and all I could think of was the history it witnessed passing by on that river.
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Oh, that makes it even more interesting, Ken!
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Yes indeed!
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😀
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We leave a piece of our history in each of the places we have walked. (K)
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Sometimes for the better.
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Made me think about the bricks in Athens Tennessee that my ancestors made.
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How cool!
Thank you.
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Deeply thoughtful and hit me where I’m at this moment of life.
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At times, it’s hard to look back at all that has occurred and not wonder how things might be different, for better or worse, but even at this point there is “moving forward.”
Thank you.
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