In the Shadow
In the shadow
I live in the shadow
the shadow of the mountain
Vesuvius.
the days are warm
The soil is fertile
I grow olives and I grow
rich.
Long ago the mountain rumbled
spewing lava, pumice stone
Pliny told us of the horror
Pompeians dying in their homes.
the days are warm
The soil is fertile
I grow olives and I grow
old..
Life in good in greater Naples
We live in an expensive home
every now and then a rumble
vulcan working at his forge
poem by John F. McCullagh
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