Three Brave Souls

Ancient Skies

Visions now of boot polish smeared,

a fast brush on leather,

ehoes of shouting, boots running, cascading down our streets,

stomping our bricks,

pounding our sanity, meanwhile

three brave souls in Virginia have perished

history haunting us, taking revenge

but may the gentle spirits – rest in peace.

I don’t really have a helmet, but I can sure make us some signs

for next time.

   

Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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