The autumn sank in wet and heavy days
That strung across the woods and into hearts
Like ours, as mildew gathered in the ways,
And all our arts
Could never build anew the broken down
Remains of what we had once floated on;
The foundering raft, the two who start to drown
When all that's gone --
The autumn stood in silent mud and gloom
A witness to
Our doom
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by 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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