About the Poem
A laid back Southern California poet's journey to low life land.
Ancient Lobby Of Yesteryear
|by Rosemary Winters
Old brown wooden antique chairs
Facing each other in a stare.
What tales do you hide?
Across this great abide.
The wide expanse
Of this ancient hotel lobby
Holds the secrets of all,
Who have crossed its paths.
Of the ancients who have been forgotten.
Of the paupers who gather at its doors.
Of the desolate ones who scream inwardly, in its depths.
Of the ailing ones who cry for solace.
Keep their secrets and your décor.
Ancient Persian carpets and ancient tile floors,
For your grandeur lies in another era.
Just as those that abide here belong in another era.
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