In droves, closing in on a wounded soul
Excited by fear, by fear of fairy tales
That night lived young
And tears flowed only when she died old.
Told a story of redeeming grace
Dressed in linen, the cloth of beginning end
Soldiers, battalions, the musical sound of war
Must be twisted melodies the hear
The off-beat dance of dreams suggest.
The morning that wakes to noise of an empty street
To claim the spoils of a bloodless war
Alas! It’s only red leaves falling
Hence, one again she is gravely fooled,
By the resident pandemonium in my head.
©jan2008 Ub M.
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