Ash Of War

By Keith O.J. Hunt

A distant wood grows its gossamer,

A near vale,

wetted and forgotten

cries alone,

where rains fall forever —-

Where once babes lay down

in the cool of grasses green,

and a brook,

where once rippled

an elven tune of old;

Now silent as the seasons here,

where once stood great Love,

on a throne of gold,

midst the broken palisades and halls —-

a near vale (now)

wetted and forgotten,

Only the breeze of sad memory….

the weeded roads and rubble —-

whisper form their ashes,

” Let us rebuild what war has claimed “

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