Forgotten Forever

The old dry soil whispers a myth to the brittle grass around, as they beg for the rain to fall,

of a time where swords clashed and

destruction amassed.

Now the trees moan and the wheat-fields groan into the air, “Where is the man who watered us with tender loving care,

 who lived in the house where now nothing lives but a talkative gray mouse.”

And the overgrown-garden remembers,

when they weren’t

                                                              f

 o

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          g

               o

                     t

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                                      n.