Alone on my throne
Of lilacs and daisies—
A green forest dream.
There is no clock;
The hand runs low
In a year without snow.
The grin of ancient trees;
Their wrinkles seem to know.
It is midnight
And the trees
Hear no evil.
Around the campfire
We waste nothing,
Not even the wood.
The ghosts of soldiers
Creep in the forest
Throughout the night.
Spirits gather
The ash and dust.
These are the stories
Our children know.
Year:
2012
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