Thursday, 24 November 2016


In Pompeii they stay where they fell and died
Crouched in rooms, all full of fear and weeping,
A mother holding babies at her side,
As though they are not dead but merely sleeping.
A man is screaming but he makes no sound
Another's voice is crying to be heard,
I stand quite still and move my eyes around
My tongue is stone I cannot speak a word.
I glide outside and take a photograph
I make a post on Facebook for my friends
I move around upon a gravel path
We live our life and suddenly it ends.
I've had enough so slowly walk away,
Unlike the stony dead of old Pompeii.