the rose petals have fallen, sunken, dropped
italian frescoes crumble into piles of expensive dust 

where cars whizz by without a care onto ancient roads of traveled souls,

where gold seeps into the aqueducts 

where the decadence of Rome

poisons the people into believing that gratitude is not a blessing to be revered 

when discoveries are no longer treasured then it is time to catch the next train