When the day dawns first in the mountains,
When the light breaks soft on the hills,
Then she goes where spirit voice calls her,
In the time and the manner she wills --
When the night draws dark in the city,
When the world turns cold and opaque,
She remembers her time on the mountain,
And discerns the real
From the fake
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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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