07-14-2014, 01:29 AM
If you walk from La Casa down a dusty calle
to the dimmed bars,
of the past days,
you will find people there;
who remember the man and the poet:
Robert Graves.
If you look from La Casa to high on the hill
where the bells chime;
evening sun will
glow like peaches in June.
You may find on a concrete, cracked tombstone
his name still.
So you head for the church;
and you climb up the hill;
and you walk to the old cemetrio,
seeking until
you find where he lies,
in a place oculto,
a man with no name,
for the letters have gone,
but a sign says it all;
"This is his final La Casa-
Robert Graves."
During, appositely, the Wimbledon finals on TV in Deia, Mallorca July 2014
to the dimmed bars,
of the past days,
you will find people there;
who remember the man and the poet:
Robert Graves.
If you look from La Casa to high on the hill
where the bells chime;
evening sun will
glow like peaches in June.
You may find on a concrete, cracked tombstone
his name still.
So you head for the church;
and you climb up the hill;
and you walk to the old cemetrio,
seeking until
you find where he lies,
in a place oculto,
a man with no name,
for the letters have gone,
but a sign says it all;
"This is his final La Casa-
Robert Graves."
During, appositely, the Wimbledon finals on TV in Deia, Mallorca July 2014