Page 69 - The Gonzaga Record 1988
P. 69
ELEGY OF A FAVOURITE PLACE
The crumbling of ancient walls echoed its past.
As it fell, years fell away from that place
Like cobwebs clinging grimly to a weather-beaten bush.
The sharp iron fangs crunched into it
As if it were dried bread.
We stood there, mouths shut, and saw the heap of rubble
That once towered high above our lowered heads,
Through the dimness of the dust.
Now it was worthless, common stone.
Its history and intrigue destroyed with it.
We walked away, scarcely believing.
But when we looked back, we knew we were awake.
Handball was gone.
Barry O'Mahony (S.4)
67
The crumbling of ancient walls echoed its past.
As it fell, years fell away from that place
Like cobwebs clinging grimly to a weather-beaten bush.
The sharp iron fangs crunched into it
As if it were dried bread.
We stood there, mouths shut, and saw the heap of rubble
That once towered high above our lowered heads,
Through the dimness of the dust.
Now it was worthless, common stone.
Its history and intrigue destroyed with it.
We walked away, scarcely believing.
But when we looked back, we knew we were awake.
Handball was gone.
Barry O'Mahony (S.4)
67
