Through the ruins of the Temple of Zeus

Old Trees Rise

Like corpses with their withered bark

Reminders of those who have come and gone.

A wall

Made of blocks

Could have been a temple, maybe a basilica

for Zeus, Jesus, or Allah

They are and will always be

nature's stones.

From the wall

A rainbow of cloth hangs; the wind blows it gently

As the clouds come and pass

hot, cold, hot, cold.

The face of a woman

a Turk, beautiful

She smiles as she watches you from her stand

Scarves, postcards, spoons for sale.

Nearby a man

now a father.

The joy shines through his face as he proudly displays

his first baby girl.

The past and the present converge

and look to the future.

The horizon is far.