Blanket of Darkness
Being weak I did fly when
the dragon
stormed
A brief time the self forgot
all but self
Put not this short day of fall
atop years
Of hard toil when I fought all
your wrong
wars
Leaving my field suckling
weeds and dying
Years of sadly singing a
foreign song
Just to keep the wheel oiled
and the old cart
Chasing the horse down
that slope called
courtship.
Alone now, nothing but this
page and pen
A world under a blanket of
darkness
Painting legends of the days
of the sun
When flowers begged
summer not to be
gone
Those days of blue
mountains against a sky
Even more blue not this
menacing night
Breathing out cobra and
crocodile fangs
Nightmares of being without
sweet songs
you sang.
I put paper to pen, I scribble
blood
I struggle to read through a
tearful flood.
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