Above my head, a ray
where I sit on a mossy ledge,
stylus in my hand drips words
like acid upon thin papyrus sheets--
of myths and cultures perishing,
never to be repeated in splendour
and tragedy-- their brilliance borne
through swollen rivers' lore.
A Brian Strand Contest NO 18
Oct 10, 2016
Copyright © Leon Datu | Year Posted 2016
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