Gary Bryson

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Mayapples green in forest’s shade,
Victim of a boy’s imagination.
Stick sword in hand, leafy enemy he slays,
Victory the boy’s destination.
An army of mayapples in the wood by the stream,
In silence they mass their attack.
With his sword as he stands, through the fog of the dream,
With his bravery he drove them all back.
None witnessed the fight, or his terror and might,

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