Pigeon Point

We sang until our voices broke,
Then rode and drank and laughed some more;
A while then, ere someone spoke,
The distant lighthouse on the shore –

The memory is fresh as paint
Of friendship shared without constraint,
And men who hadn’t lost their joy
Or what it meant to be a boy

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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