Windy Day

Windy day: the grass is restless, sick —
The swamp is full of fever, gust and rage —
As he stands on the edge of his regrets,
And wonders what these harbingers presage.

As matters stand, they barely stand at all,
Or maybe better: he’s a fallen man,
And like the grass, he’s restless, sick at heart,
And bleeding guilt on an
Installment plan

Author: Owen Servant

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

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