Thursday, March 17, 2011

"The Stream"

The stream of people flowed
in and out of museums
up and down hundreds of marbled steps
Laughing loudly,
children dashing around the Mall
Vendors with ice cones,
lemonade, chips and pretzels
We flowed with the stream
hot and tired
from walking all day
Our voices rose on the summer’s breeze
happy, vibrant, alive
Then we came to The Wall
with mirrored surface
and name after name after name
after name
The stream slowed
it ebbed
Voices hushed to soft whispers
butterfly touches
caressing the carved names
We stood,
fingers woven together
searching through our reflected images
for another reflection
The stream stopped
losing its motion
it shimmered in the silent
deep pools
Our heads bowed
we sighed
Our breath caused motion
and the stream trickled
It flowed past the wall
and spilled onto a
grassy area
where past and present
water the future

Copyright 1996 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

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