There are ties that bind: invisible mind
and the past entwined on yellow maps.
A yard of old lace, may conjure a face:
in warp and weft trace the past entrap’d.
Every life dwindles but Earth still spins
and hope lies within each narrow span.
Write poems on walls; hang shields in the halls:
let history’s call revive the man.
The Sunday Mini-Challenge on Real Toads introduces the Welsh form, Cyhydedd Hir.
I have used the option of writing my 19 syllables over couplets.
I found inspiration in the words of The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #69.