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Aug 2020
Beneath horse hair flax a wretched creature stirs,
off the well marched blood stained tracks
beyond the ***** ale soaked house,
The Scarer wakes with field mouse.

The dust of bones that fell in France
was scattered here to bring advance
to farmers field and heavy plough,
The Dead are churned to feed us now.

A soldiers ******* boy who no Mother ever mourns
another blasted Cannon, another Empire Dawn,
his clapper claps to scare the birds
Each clattered beat drowns out his words.

Across these patchwork Jaded Hills
an echo gently whispers still,
of all the voices never heard
Drowned out by time to scare a bird.
There is an audio reading available at this link https://wolfgarwords.com
Wolfgar
Written by
Wolfgar  56/M/England
(56/M/England)   
132
 
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