|The Lynford Stag in July 2018|
Spilling forth from Breckland stag,
Soldiers swinging, swords of fire,
Shouting praises for promised lands.
Crunching forth o’er sundried straw,
Crackles burning, soles all sore,
Citing crazes for conquered lands.
Falling forth from sun-singed lips,
Flowers frying, at devil’s door
Firing curses for shrivelled lands.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, July 2018
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