Reining Storm

Those wiles, Spirit,

That Guile and grit.

Et al., to wit,

You complete it.

That rising Grin,

You’ve won again,

Walls, Paper-thin,

We Fight to win.

You brought Me War,

Boot-prints on Shores,

Your reining Storm,

Acid, but Warm.

The Truth be told,

My Army sold.

The rest? Retired.

But, Signal Fires?

My Message sent,

To You, not Them,

You’re welcome in,

I’ve been waiting.

© CGT, 2017.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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