Fifty years ago, I saw a stately monument.
Worn engravings and water’s toll
were signs of its ancient origin.
Today those days have been forgotten.
In its place is a children’s playground

The sculptor’s sweat and his bold inspiration
are fading memories of my generation.
My children do not know about it.
They have forgotten the debt we owe.

I pass the sacred grove each day.
As decades pass, I wonder what I should do.
Those difficult times are fading away.

My friends don’t understand my regrets.
I wish I was not alone in my sorrow.

I wish I knew how to save the memory.

W. Wayne B.
Kindle poetry chapbook: Poems: Hope and Love

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2014 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Tear Drop Memorial [unchanged]. By Mambo’Dan Image license