I saw myself meandering through those streets
which once were the lovely galleries of time…

age has ruined the lame,
as always
and
upon the lacerations of time on poor skins
we new lives want to begin
sad as it may appear

but what will they do
for whom solution of poverty is dear,
money dearer too

they can only bark at those already down trodden,
what else can they do
but to let ruins be the final outcome,

a new excavation and revelation
of a city that once was a golden entity,
time has lost all significance may be
but beauty ought to be reborn
as it’s not yet the end of eternity,

sad faces must be lightened again
By someone
who may be
you, they or me.