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Beneath Rome’s ancient, silent stones,

 Beneath Rome’s ancient, silent stones,

I walk alone, my heart a stone,

The air is dry, the sky unknown,

And memories like shadows thrown.


The birds sing softly—familiar tunes—

A melody from distant rooms,

A blackbird’s call, a sacred rune,

A whisper of what ends too soon.


Your voice, a ghost in every song,

A melody I hold so long,

Yet here I stand, where I belong,

With pain that lingers, deep and strong.


They say you’re free, no more pain,

But I feel only loss and strain,

A heart that aches, a soul’s refrain,

In Rome’s embrace, I mourn in vain.


Yesterday was my birthday’s night,

A simple “thank you,” out of sight,

Tomorrow marks your final fight—

A love gone silent in the night.


Cancer’s cruel, dementia’s thief,

They steal away the soul’s relief,

Endings written in disbelief—

A life reduced to grief.


You slipped away in gentle sleep,

While I in shadows, vigil keep,

My heart is yours, forever steeped,

In memories I cannot keep.


A child’s toy, a Vespa’s gleam,

Symbols of joy, of childhood’s dream,

Now shadows cast across my stream,

Reminding me of love’s cruel seam.


So here I stand in Rome’s quiet grace,

A thousand memories I chase,

In every stone, in every face,

I find your love, I find your place.


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