choose your words well,
let the words from your brain flow,
into the correct order,
into the correct sense,
don’t freeze over,
don’t lose the plot,
let the serpent slither faster,
this ancient art will last,
longer than the page,
paper dies faster than words.
the pen is mightier than the sword,
the sword rusts after all,
the thought written is eternal,
even longer than Elisa’s last phone call.
words locked in rhythm,
words full of pain,
or words of love for Elisa,
no matter how much it rains.
words last longer than the squalor,
that you find here daily in Velletri,
thank you Elisa for my inspiration,
thank you for pushing me here.
words formed in ink,
words spoken out loud,
or trees burnt down in anger,
and paper dies faster than words.
Maybe one of my poems will survive,
into a new and healthier era,
or maybe nothing of us will survive,
and the future is so much nearer.

©D.Hobson August 2013