Beholden
Each milestone sees him as evenings enfold
Where crystals touch his soul with chilling cold,
A lantern shines through his painted face
While his robe waves upon a steady pace,
Until he comes to an old trove without doors
Which felt welcoming like glown summer shores,
And he slumbered on grass greener than mould
Through the moon's shaft, he watched God's eyes, behold.
Copyright © Troy Greece | Year Posted 2013
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