The hollow sound of
my memory
persists,
Though even
stranded stars cannot
refract this light, now.
It was a blue and
tender
hymn,
and it washed like
wind over the sea-salted
cat-tails,
whistling in their marsh,
harbored closely to the Sea-
in a somber end
to my final summer.
I chose to remember the magic child
abandoned long ago.
Under red skies worlded in war,
wrap't in merciless tremor,
my eyes rose out and ov'r
alone, as I hunger'd for
a storm of peace.
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