Sirphan

The shadow,
Your muse,
Your love;
To be born from many wombs and to use various combs,
But the bombs came falling on us!
And most of us are now buried in the tombs.
A shadow,
Your works,
Your words;
Wombs, combs, bombs, tombs! !
The forum,
The temples,
The colossus,
The catacombs;
But the baths were made for your use,
So, make yourselves clean before the laws! !
And like the muse of Sirphan my friend.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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