Marching
Through marching,
lines
and ranks
of maize,
with corners
and walls
against
the falling skies,
the shadows lengthen
the coming darkness,
the battalions
of winter,
in regiments
on the horizon,
led by forgotten ghosts
and ragged flags,
in fallen reasons
and forgotten whys,
and above,
the moon rises,
blinded in light
and lunacy,
a reminder
of death
and watching
war and hate,
must never
in the solitary blue
of life,
have to be.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
