Trône’s Inamorata


 

Trône’s InamorataConflict and river banksAre more pronounced,Days of constant meandering.Men-at-arms have all but receded,Whispers of footstepsHave given way,Passage too.All that remains,Battlefield’s bare-bonesAnd ghost footbridges;Once crossedWithout delay.A certain silenceRings the bells of grief,In a land of memories;Bitter, not so sweet. “We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial — I believe we are lost.”― Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

Source: Trône’s Inamorata

 

Trône’s Inamorata

Conflict and river banks
Are more pronounced,
Days of constant meandering.
Men-at-arms have all but receded,
Whispers of footsteps
Have given way,
Passage too.
All that remains,
Battlefield’s bare-bones
And ghost footbridges;
Once crossed
Without delay.
A certain silence
Rings the bells of grief,
In a land of memories;
Bitter, not so sweet.

 

“We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial — I believe we are lost.”
― Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

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