Monuments

Monuments They have gone now not a trace left but hazy memories. Leaves are getting yellow there is no denying fall is here. I’m the sole survivor standing on a plateau of nothingness where dust of wasted years, blows in the wind. But it was the wasted years that brought you here, a voice whispers. I shall not now climb the Eiffel tower from the outside in honour of the army of welders; whom are all but forgotten. The name Eiffel lives on, but the man himself lost his crown when trying to construct the Panama Canal. This long hall I must walk so many doors on each side, I will not enter any of them to see what’s inside, my curiosity is gone I need not know. My object is to reach the end of the corridor where I see shadows, perhaps the great man Eiffel is there, if not I hope they are, the welders of the monument made of Iron.