Across The Hills

Across the hills of years and fears,
We heard the voice of long ago;
And though the past came fast,
We took it slow.

Though green may grow our days and ways,
Our fates are ever brown and blue;
For I know lies from truth, and
So do you.

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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