Warriors of Ruin
by Adam Pliskin

And we roll on
Past the drums that beat us back to the cacophony of our youth
Down the wistful hills of yesterday
The winding roads that carve
The fragile outline of meandering memories
To the time-torn, decaying docks
Where ghosts stare into the tide of the past
Imparting their arcane knowledge on the waves
To the horizon line
The place where sun tastes ocean's salty breath upon its lips
And then bows its ancient head below the sullen sea
Where we cast our forgotten dreams like glassy stones
Never to rise again
And we roll on along the path of reckless nostalgia
Warriors of ruin



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Poem Copyright © 2007 by Adam Pliskin

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