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by Andy Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1905547
this got into the college magazine when I was 17
The Night Is Ended

The grass lies dying in a forgotten field
Nothing moves, nothing speaks of summer skies
And trees that yield
To the warm, soft wind

The cold grey dawn crawls over the hills
As we look, but cannot see
Men stumbling. yet trying to be
The heroes they once were

I look up and see
the rain fall through the sun
'' The night is ended'' I cry, and
There's you beside me
Your hair golden in the light

The grass lies dying in a forgotten field
Where nothing moves, nothing speaks
Of ancient days, and summer wine
Ans trees that yield to the wind
© Copyright 2012 Andy (10december at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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