Tower

A vigil kept in empty times
To watch for signs of safe return;
The mission of forgotten folk
As long as there is wick to burn

Because — well, there is no ‘because’
The world would have us recognize —
But, maybe, this is what love is:
To wait, to hope,

To agonize

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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