10th April 2014.
A thousand shards.
Where golden rapeseed danced wayward
Beneath the towering sky
And the loving breeze on rolling hills
full of swallows high -
There lay a thousand shards.
The violet hour where the sun kissed
the tops of common ash
And faraway glints of shooting stars
died in a smiling flash -
There lay a thousand shards.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
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Editors' choice
Written on 2014-04-10 at 01:12
Tags Sadness  Life 
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