the words like gold

through ancient molds

etched eternal in zeros and ones

upon the walls

virtual waterfalls

left for generations to come

momentary gaze

few are amazed

for time has interest waned

the written word

mere nouns and verbs

no longer the world's chain

with window's boards

and dusty floors

in silence it still stands

though noticed not

foundation fraught

crumbling soon to sand

though echoes remain

never will the same

life be a part of the hub

for echoes fade

the ghosts are laid

silence befalls the Poets Pub