Stillness.
A truce
in a feisty fight,
a spruce
born in a cusper;
love and spite
uttered in one whisper,
countdown to zero;
halo of a lost hero
shines a dim half moon
over fields of broon:
dusk engulfs the sun
paraphrasing it as night,
darkness eats the light
of our helpless run.
DM
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