Poems About "History"


He wanders slowly,
hands in his pockets,
eyes tracing the faces
frozen in time,
their stories reaching out
from the quiet walls.
The floor creaks softly beneath him,
but the air feels heavy
weighted with...
He wanders slowly,
hands in his pockets,
eyes tracing the faces
frozen in time,
their stories reaching out
from the quiet walls.
The floor creaks softly beneath him,
but the air feels heavy
weighted with...