Historical Invaders (Age 18) Poem by Jessica C. Galvan

Historical figures consistently persist on walking over my arbutus and rose spotted garden.

They fade in and out of the foregrounds of my newly painted life, dissolving the texture of my walls.

There seems to be an aura of reminisce drifting through their brain which consequently keeps them within diameter of my presence.

This town holds no room for loyalty; no room for remorse.
It gradually shrinks with each peak of dawn, leaving my garden to face the weight of even the vilest of souls.

Times of yore become common ground where failure of remembrance is not an acceptable crown of choice.

Letters of hearsay get muffled under coated breath and old English is spoken.

I am sick of ghostly faces and names of wicked hearts that are even voiced among the peaceful soundless trees.

But oh how my blissful life has foreseen a cottage on the seaside, where my garden will stay dry of prior invader; where no creature dares to roam.



© 2008 JESSICA C. GALVAN (All rights reserved)