6725. ATHENS HAS FEW ALLIES LEFT

ATHENS HAS FEW 
ALLIES LEFT

And all Thrace is lost and what of it. The island

of Nimacros is in slumber and Abraxo now seems

withered. If I had a hat to carry a care in, perhaps I

would. Here it is deep night  -  the ledge of an approaching

morning not yet anywhere to be seen. When that first

glint and whisper of dawn appears. Yes, these Summer

birds start their noises while is still dark. That I like

and that I can understand  -  unroll me that carpet to

morning, open that new-day door. When I eight years 

old I'd sit in a big padded chair at my aunt's house  -  

everything deep and upholstered and quiet, not like

anywhere else  -  and view picture books of places

like that : Isles of Capri as if a hundred existed  -  placed

turquoise places and little vintage Greek hillside towns

and villas. I would dream away my young-kid's heart

with the forward-bearing thrust of life-blood surging.

And  now, even Athens has few allies left : things go

broke and people give up. Children starve as mothers

grow infertile. The only bridge left, these days, it now

seems is the heavily-trodden bridge to nowhere.