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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1819085
It is always a long way home.
On this road I have traveled, a fate that drove me far from home
The open wings of the lonely Night above do soar
As her starry palm beckons me to shore
And I lay to rest my weariness upon a stone.

Mother, are you calling me home?

A caress, a nuzzle, a chilled but forgottem kiss
Reminds me of the bonds I alone did forge
The march we pledged, upon our blood the earth did gorge
No pretty maiden for me to miss
As I rest upon this grassy mist.

Mother, will I tarry from even this lonely tryst?

The road she leads me no more
The pledge is gone and so the coin
Enemy and comrade scattered a'field like broken toys
Abandoned the child, now a man as the blood wine does pour.
Tug at this dewy coverlet no more

Mother, welcome your son home, open the door.
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