Berlin

by John Stocks


And now a soft rain falls
Over the Tiergarten.
The new glass palaces
Shimmer in weak sunshine.

My father came here too
In recrimination
Sat and gazed in awe
At the faceless children
Stumbling through the ruins.

We sit and share our wine
Between smiling faces;
Light blossoming laughter
Ekes out the afternoon.
Calmly we wait on dreams.

Later we think only how
The evening twilight falls
Too soon, gaze at the moon,
Knowing no human fears
Or souls can graze the stars.

Tonight it seems absurd
To speak of war or grief.
Your ghosts are nebulous,
Your wine as warm as blood.


Copyright © 2010 by John Stocks

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