Freedom At Last

Flames raged in the cornfields around it,

Bobbing there in stagnant waters

Tethered to a solid mooring post

With a thick, coarse rope.

Each spark from the furnace

A risk to its rotting timbers

As it took hold and smouldered

And smoked and spread

Oars crossed and laid on its floor

And the spattered markings of crows

Bleaching spots of ...

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