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This is a poem about being inside one of my father's paintings... I was trying to write about something new, try a slightly different style..... so please leave comments!
J


Submitted:Jul 15, 2012    Reads: 15    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


I am there but missing.

Hidden beneath the land,

Exploring the maze and

The past hidden below.

Less than a century ago

The Welsh trudged across

This desolate landscape,

Heading underground.

During the day

Their world was filled

With darkness. Pierced by

Candle light and fear.

This lonely cottage,

Becoming ruins,

Holds the memories

Of a forgotten family.

The trees memorising

The passing of time

As they stand and watch.





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