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Feb 23
The bleached headers collect on this
sea of silence, words collecting memories
                  of names now wilted and silent.

But we remember these crests of white frozen on
the fields of shattered dreams, dormant reminders
                           that not all names are still spoken.

Nerveless there are still waves of regrets
                  and honour for fallen impressions.
Buried beneath the sea of green, our future granted.
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
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