My pen bleeds,
Bleeds battles on old alliance lost..
In fields in years of our youth..
By the open fire,
Herbs and mash mellows..
Where laughter’s of funny jokes were shared..
Funnier were those that came..
From the name that today eludes me..
Sits on my tongue, refusing to be named..
In our hippie days..
When music and world peace..
Was the politics we spoke..
War is bad..
The grown-ups were a bore..
Torturing us with
Worrying songs of tomorrow..
In a blink,
Stone dropped in ponds, oceans..
Sent chuckles splashing..
In different directions of geography..
Now new alliance formed now
A few old one’s still attached to..
Not always for reasons of friendship..
For that is lost now..
Under this pea tree, in reminiscence..
My pen bleeds memories in droplets
Pouring, oozing down on paper..
Of old alliance lost..
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