by Tom Ashley
A thousand times I walked past that church
its gothic beauty tucked between the streets
its bust of the esteemed Nikola Tesla
its working people with
their wants, keeping to themselves
yet always greeting with a smile
It was over, just like that
the internet, television telling a story
in pictures, not words
for words couldn’t do justice to
the fire consuming a century
of life’s tributes, births and deaths
baptisms, weddings, Sunday feasts
all gone save its perfect façade
now its lone tombstone
Poetry? Me? It felt like a foreign language before I stuck my toe in the water. This dimension has enriched my life and given me an added opportunity of expression and communication.