ah, listen! to night the quiet moon shall sing – all will fall, silently upon hills alive ‘ere birth of fire; and by dawn we’d see efflorescence like no other – the girl and her father no longer bleed at breakfast and tears break from the eyes of her mother for there shall be bread not stale and milk not curdled and fresh strawberries they’d pick together from the garden. ah, the quiet moon sang that day as the sun rose from ashes and tears. indeed. war’s end – after 22:12’s hour, they’ll live


originally published: 25 Dec 2015

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