a sentry guard laments the day his mother went out for milk
a cool mist slowly approaches him and begins licking his boots unaware that his pinky toe is peeking out of his sock begging for a taste of the blistering wind
he stands at attention
a noice emanates from the woods at his fifteen hundred
he totes his gun on his right shoulder and begins the approach
the noise somewhere between shriek and shrill leads him to a clearing in the woods where he sees a man of not more than forty years of age speckled stubble upon his face
walking around in circles with stick in the ground
he's got that look in his eye
a mutter a conversation a yell
a symphony
of sound
peonies for the poor folk a bushel of roses for the dead dandelions for the prayers speckled as dust crackled as wood he who seeks fortune shall make do with crumbs fire overhead a love overheard this time there's no way out we litter the past we litter the waters we litter whatever is left of our hallowed grounds
if only mother knew
if only mother knew
the sentry stands at attention
he brings his rifle down from his shoulder and raises it to his face
ah yes
the garble
Aug 14, 2024
Aug 14, 2024 at 2:44 PM UTC
a sentry guard laments the day his mother went out for milk
a cool mist slowly approaches him and begins licking his boots unaware that his pinky toe is peeking out of his sock begging for a taste of the blistering wind
he stands at attention
a noice emanates from the woods at his fifteen hundred
he totes his gun on his right shoulder and begins the approach
the noise somewhere between shriek and shrill leads him to a clearing in the woods where he sees a man of not more than forty years of age speckled stubble upon his face
walking around in circles with stick in the ground
he's got that look in his eye
a mutter a conversation a yell
a symphony
of sound
peonies for the poor folk a bushel of roses for the dead dandelions for the prayers speckled as dust crackled as wood he who seeks fortune shall make do with crumbs fire overhead a love overheard this time there's no way out we litter the past we litter the waters we litter whatever is left of our hallowed grounds
if only mother knew
if only mother knew
the sentry stands at attention
he brings his rifle down from his shoulder and raises it to his face
ah yes
the garble
