Under the Dying Cloud
We gathered our dead
Collected the longbows
For the Giving Tree
Had made them especially
For a company of men
For some suffered
In their death throes
Under the dying cloud
We honoured our men
In a fading sunset sky
For they turned
In to nature
And magic
And like leaves
Tumbled by
The sun bowed
The darkness came
The stars rose
The fallen men
In their death throes
Became the light in the night sky
Under the dying cloud
Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2009
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