On the granite staircase beneath the falling
water,
you can almost hear the tanner's wheel turning...
...In a distant time.

As you walk the paths of green,
the ground slightly trembles with the echo of an
ox cart...
...Long since gone.

You turn to watch the children you hear playing
outside their rustic cottage, but hear only chipmunks
romping...
...On the remnants of a stone laden wall.

The faint smell of a hickory smokehouse touches
only your mind...
...For it too is but a memory.

And you realize as you walk away,
that all these things were never really gone,
but they will linger 'til the sun disappears
forever,
and the water...
...Falls no more.

				Marc Spera 9-12-85