Poetry

Just a Hill

By 1st January 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

Soggy smelling peat
On a smoke obscured hill,
Death,
like a blanket.
Souls bonded together,
fear conquered.
Haggard
pale pinched faces,
Only the eyes,
Bright, alert,
The mirror of our
souls.

James Love

Author James Love

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