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Son of Sirius.

A brightness bathed the night: Spectral corollas flecked the slick, Damp sea – shoals of languid light Mourned in planetary shadow play. Bloodless bronze effigy, Son of Sirius, hastened earthward From the jaw of an untamed brute: Swathed in an amorphous, turbid Cloth, he fell – stark as crimson Amid the dull, wan air. A death Most uncouth: lain now on a pillow Of galling shell and abrasive flesh. A rare trinket plucked for my memory. ©Thomas Gabriel
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Written by
thomas-gabriel-1
Published
Jan 29, 2012
Lines·Words
21·78
Notes

I found a wonderfully rare (dead) owl whilst on a walk this week and i took one of his feathers so i could remember his beauty. This is his.

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