orange gretta

in hours spent, just past the orange gretta,

in mystery, was his youth there beguiled —

when fear was something conquered, just by goodness,

and evil understood, though just a child

 

though picnics might have rains that pour and thunder,

and summers spent with friends, their mystery —

it all made sense, just past the orange gretta:

but he can’t bring that back,

life’s lost

simplicity

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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