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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Poems
A fictional look at a time long, long, ago.

Submitted: November 17, 2016

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Submitted: November 17, 2016



I have seen him on the bridge

By the river

And in the fields freshly tilled

I saw him there.

I know he drinks the dew

Of morning's mist

And the creatures bring him food

They want to share.


Those creatures crowd around him

In the evening

And the birds bring him kindling

For the fire.

He tells them of the place

That he once lived,

The land where angels gather,



I have seen him paint the clouds

With fiery colors

In evening's gentle moments,

At twilight time,

Then he calls to the moon,

"Come light my way."

And he sings a haunting song,

Void of rhyme.


He sings those mournful songs

That have no worldly meaning,

They are tunes from that place,


He remembers them,

But still he has a question,

"Where went those wings

That, once, took me higher?"


So now he lives among

The likes of man,

But avoids the hint of contact

With them all.

As I watch him by the river

A question haunts me,

"Why does sorrow come about

When angle's fall?"



D. Thurmond / JEF --- 11-16-2016

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