love poetry chat

royal feast was done
and my name is truthful
when i was broke in london
and so it goes
though i am little as all little things
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
a thousand silent years ago
as i lie roofed in, screened in
one by one, like leaves from a tree
a look is but a ray
in an old chamber softly lit
he speaks not well
a very remarkable history this is
the earth keeps some vibration going