Munch Time. Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Munch
Munch time.

Time munches at our individuality.

Nibbles
In
Sweet
Servitude from us
In
Sweet
Majesty
And
There's
A
Walking
Of
The ghost on lawn.


Soldiers were trooped there, trooped in order.

Somewhat silent, noiseless in their gravitude.

Night
Is
The
Best
Time
For
These Spirits
But
Other
Times
compete
as
on wintry
days
and
days
of chill.

Their visage wore not color
For Spirits were they
But the look was there
It was funereal
And glided the soft Lethe waves.

Somber notes played, yet in the background hummed.

This was this segment as the others were