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Boreas’ Melody

There is a haze

of retreating battles and war-cries

in the quietly thrumming sky,

as if the harps that once played

at the height of victory

and at mournful burials

were left unattended,

the rusted strings

gently caressed by Boreas.


tucked in corners where blood

could not reach,

a little girl dreams of castles

and a calming melody

played by a dark-haired man

with purple wings and cold eyes

on a harp.


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