Mother and Child at Pompeii Peter Huggins Not the ones covered in ash, The shell of their remains. Not the ones painted By da Vinci or Raphael Or any other master Of ethereal blue. A living mother pushing A baby in a stroller On the reclaimed streets Of Pompeii. Chic in her silk Shirt, jeans, and sandals, She pushes past me. Their presence fills me With a happiness I can’t Explain. I stand still, Hear the wheels of the stroller Squeak on the stones Just as I hear the wheels Of Roman chariots Grind through the press Of people and I feel Both in and out of time. |