Semblances – 2

We skittered, nervously it’s true,
Down avenues we barely knew;
The capitol, with all it’s glare
Sat trembling and waiting there

It was the age of peace and gold,
And we were angels of the light:
But hope, left out, soon dies of cold,
While left alone to sleep
Lay truth

And right

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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