The queen with her guards has disappeared

And rain is falling in the flower garden

The king is dead

His sons grew fat in foreign lands

While the wild trees struck

Their roots inside

The castle walls.


The wind is howling in the valleys of our fathers

Where they worked the land between brae and burn

The rock doves flutter in leafless trees

And ivy greens the ancient stones.


The body – so beautiful in motion- catches

Caught by a bullet

Falls – and is gone

Mud comes and buries the dead of both armies

Trees grow

The woods are filled with sun.


Lovers come seeking shelter

Above the bones their limbs entwine

While round and ruffled to hold the warmth

A single bird sings out its song.


The birds of the fields come and go

The seasons like passing cars move on

As the hour of living fades

The hour of living is begun.

Tagged with: poempoemspoetrythe hour of living

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