Independence Hall

A Poem by AlphaDelta

Reflections about this place.

Sitting in this hall of old
Echoes of history, some stories still untold
Hallways creak with weight of figures at home
If only these shadows knew they weren't quite alone.

Watching them drift by my seat with purpose in their stride
Living out their actions, as though they haven't died.
Men around a table, quills in mid-night
Whispers of freedom echo in the cloak of candlelight

In these hallowed halls, with liberty at hand
Fighting for the freedom of this new and tender land
Silently they talk, with their eyes full of spark
I watch these shadowed figures come to life at dark

And in the day they fade away, to modern clothes and times
and people now they come in and shout what's on their minds
With no regard to the living, and no thought for the dead
I wonder what the shadows think of thoughts in people's heads

In these old, well-traveled halls, memories are taught
But what a shame, what's in the name that people have forgot
Independence Hall, here we learned to fight
Learned liberty from shadows that walk in dead of night