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The Life Of A Poet
An young ember, bright scarlet,
Blazing in the night,
Tossing joy in the sky;
Vietnam gleamed like a silver sword blade.
Its tears tricked into the tranquil rosary, each winter,
Washing away happiness while the golden leaves tarnished,
Filling the auburn soil with gloom;
In England, the crescendo nostalgia awakened the wrens.
Decades of dancing from seasons to seasons,
Its heart beats weakened, gradually,
Each blood vessel, mottled with unerasable wrinkles;
America, forever, glimmered in dead silence.