The Flood
The flood,
an early
dawn
of darkness,
steel,
grey
and morning
light,
slips between
the clouds
and sky,
so begins
another day,
in sight,
for the fields
are full
and plenty,
the streams
and rivulets
silver quick
beneath
the tumble
and fall
of sky
only shadows,
as memories
are lost
in entanglement,
the passing
of death
in this
last expiring
fall
of why
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p1964km@googlemail.com
