the

memory is

'as

           fleeting

as

             a

bird

as elusive 

as                     a

stray dog

         the

memory

strikes

                during

simple times

anything 

can                     trigger

it the 

             memory of

running

of being so

    scared

for my dad             my

mom

praying

shutting the

windows                    so the

smoke            can't

       come

in from across

the river

the     river

I used

to hate

provides   a 

barrier

               from

a burning

empire

                  from

Rome falling

my dad

                  coming

home

dust-streaked

crying.

my dad 

never cries,

                 but

he cried that

day

as Rome burned

we had no

power, the

day 

the  two brothers

              fell

torn apart

by 

blind hatred.

The 

day Rome

fell

taking

so            many

     lives

with it,

into the 

abyss

the day

Rome burned.