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Lullaby For The Dying

That's me
swung on the climbing bars like
a hero from tales of long ago
lost or won the battles
more forgotten than remembered

Unconscionably fortunate am I-
I have a new history, the one I love
steers close as on a river and all 
the banks are green

Light mesmeric but reflects itself
dazzles and pleases where
illusion fails to cool the air
no attitude ungreens contours
lay down thoughts of disaster 

Long hours again stretch further 
reach for helpless mist and waterfall 
return us then to enshadowed gorges
and peace there not found before

◄ Death

In Thomas Hardy's Wessex ►

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