Colin F. Jones


The shadow of the wall is bare,
Not a name is seen anywhere…
Except when the Sun is at its height,
Then the shadow is bathed in golden light,
And all the names there are seen,
With little shadows in between,
For though their bodies may have gone,
Their shadows on the wall live on,
To add a meaning to the name,
Around which each doth form a frame.
And as each day doth dawn and set,
The shadows are seen walking yet,
Back to the wall where they rest,
Among the inscriptions of the best.