Image

 

Phantoms drift,

In lined processions,

Marching off to war.

Glinting Shields

Share their light,

Lances fully drawn.

Beating drums,

They crash like thunder,

Grasping for the shore.

Salty lips drawn deeply,

Sucking.

They march.

In one accord.

 

(c) musicgal2012 Lorelle Press 8/11/13

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