Five of us sat around the table <br />eating ice cream and apple pie. <br />But in between the laughter <br />and the sips of wine <br />silence fell and talked so loud <br />with all the words we left unsaid. <br /> <br />How long the road ahead seemed then <br />back in the days when we were young. <br />Full of adventure <br />in each twist and every turn <br />and city walls with giant towers, <br />with parapets and citadels to burn. <br /> <br />Prophets of the revolution. <br />The thirst, the burning hunger, <br />the rages of the soul and of the flesh. <br />A poster of Che Guevara in every bedsit, <br />Afghan coats, afro hair, <br />and bells around our necks. <br /> <br />But how short the road ahead is now. <br />The drums of war no longer beating <br />and the city walls still standing strong. <br />The old flag still flying on the turrets <br />and our armies wrecked <br />and laying in ruins at the city doors. <br /> <br />Four of us sit around the table <br />eating ice cream and apple pie. <br />But in between the laughter <br />and the sips of wine <br />silence falls and talks so loud <br />with all the words we leave unsaid.<br /><br />Chris Zachariou<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-words-we-leave-unsaid/
