by Jim Dunlap
Ah, Alexandria, bright Queen at the Nile’s mouth,
my dreams flash back to distasteful pagan rites
as you scorned the desert sands, stretching to the South,
and flaunted your opulence, and prurient delights.
Your library was a wonder that lit the ancient world,
and scholars came from everywhere to practice pedantry;
while your walls besotted empires where many flags unfurled:
but now your former glories lie deep beneath the sea.
Could I open wide a window to pierce the wall of Time,
I’d love to view your ancientry and see the bustling throngs
who filled your marketplaces, hailed Gods once thought divine,
and your boatmen on the river, and the rhythm of their songs.
But alas, the rising waters have engulfed your resting place,
and you’ll sleep forever, ‘neath the ocean’s cold embrace.