Rising with the Sun

by Blake   Mar 2, 2019

We play with sickles
Through bounties of wheat
Waiting for our mothers to call
We follow the footsteps
Of jackals and hooves
Beyond the forests of Yew
We follow the tune
Of the lyres sweet song
To a friend we had forgotten
And while we danced
Our fathers plowed
And our mothers were weeping alone
Though we few
Who never knew
Him who we thought we had known


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