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.
