In a soporific fog we slipped
between the needles blue
and glazed dripping january rain
softly underfoot the beds of fallen
soldiers gold and dead in passageways
of mountain kings we tread forbidden
spring-green fields the shining trophy
was the chase end-of-day faces
turned toward a quivering sky
our metronome of ragged breath
marked each timeless tensile hour
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
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