On the rocks
The withered age lay
Collecting barnacles
And the flotsam of the sea,
Lapped by the rhythm
Of time, blue waves
And bleached
By the sun.

On the cliffs and coasts
With shining lighthouses,
Bridges and blinking buoys;
And sunken triremes, galleys
And metal ships in the ocean
Below home to crabs, lobsters,
Fish, seaweed and sailors’ bones.

When the ages die,
They are buried
On the coasts
And in the seas,
One age sleeping
Over another,
And in the silence
Of those warm orange
Summer afternoons
And those cool starry
Winter nights one can hear
Their ancient whispers
Floating in the air;
One can hear the
Haunting siren songs
And ancient laments
Of the withered age.

*******************************

With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

********************************

Check Nikos Laios' EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!