Austyn O'Dwyer

Of Lost Glades

Where are you glade?
Where do you live?
Or are you but a part of me?
Where is your grand, majestic limb,
Where is your sacred willow tree?
Of every wood in all the land,
My searching, fruitless, tires me.
My quest to find your cedar hand,
Idle, waiting, eternally.

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