Umbrae
Trailing crowds of shadows
Do we go.
Streets of phantoms do we haunt
Flesh and blood dissolve in recall
Of what used to be
In mists of time we drift
Detaching by degrees
Limping towards infinity
Void or other world
That we cannot know
Till our portal makes its close
And then it is too late
As spectral we become
To face our eternal fate.
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2015
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