Night of Stone--Four Lines
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For thirteen moons I holler in angst relentlessly
Under coal stars, these hands pray over August's ceasefire;
Till a young man's dull frame quakes on bloodied tracks...
O my son laying with ghosts of heroes, my night of stone.
~*~
3/25/2019 ~ Edited
Writing Challenge 5, March 2019, Four Lines - Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
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