Summer.

The traveller awakens to the sound of the grass,

whispering tales of soldiers long passed.

Tunnels and caverns reflect ancient sound,

Echoing voices trapped in the ground.

Wake up, they say,

Wake up, they say.

.

Birds begin nesting between twirling twigs,

Feeding their offspring with apples and figs.

Feathers all blackened with ashes and dust,

Singing lullabies of wisdom and trust.

Wake up, they say,

Wake up, they say.

.

Trains begin leaving before the dawn breaks,

Railroads they run like silvery snakes.

New eyes seek warmth in the Sun’s gentle light,

as the summer day morphs into beautiful night.

Wake up, it says,

Wake up, it says.

.


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