A legend in the dreams
The black pitches dark
Not everything it seems
That once made its spark
The munitions are through
With each and every hour
So much there to renew
Like seed from summer's flower

Face of the fall’s flame
Catching yellow desire
There is no inside name
Of the unsought turning fire
Like roads that never leave
In a destiny on their own
Catching yesterday’s grieve
Into the oncoming brown

We made our thoughts live
And never were driven back
Each inside to outside we give
If temperament of it did lack

by Peter S. Quinn

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