In the last days that stony ground gave life,
those great, green gifts were gained by thrust of knife.
As the blood puddle spread, so went the green —
trumped by colors inanimate and mean.
And when they prayed for cooler days and nights,
they were answered with blazing fires and lights.
Good stuff! I love that you use rhyming in your poems. I am always reluctant to do so, but I feel that you pull it off very nicely.
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amazing work
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Thank you
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