Original Poems

At Evening

In swarms of sunset, summer comes to rest
Amid the fields, at evening, breathing blessed.
And far away from noise of car and town
We bear the ache, the grief, that lately bore us down.

At evening we remember him we lost
From times unjust and stars unfairly crossed.
For where we go from here I cannot say;
I only wish, I’d never lived to see this day.

The stars at evening come as daylight goes,
The night skies gift their legacy, instead.
But why the good must die, full no one knows
Or why we’re left to grieve our lost and troubled dead

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