In ruins where the gallant fought, starred above
The reach of towering walls, enflaming
Spirits, Silence stands; a violet dove
Circles the Moon with lonely cries; feigning
And lying, sparks of Life that ebbed here, die
Again in memories, in stories, told
In various shades of red; all tales lie,
Lie buried in ruins while tales unfold.
Distant, distinct, ahead of where I stand,
A church bell tolls over the barren land.
Continue reading “Dreaming A Watchtower”