In the Midst of Ruins

The faces are strange,
dream figures on a night filled with fever
and madness,
of love believed and love forgotten,
love perhaps, only imagined,
and yet somehow,
a thing of faith and comfort,
of promise and peace,
even in the midst of ruins.

About this poem

I had strange dreams last night. Too much flu medicine, I imagine.

The picture was taken, of all places, at Disney World.

Tom