Thursday, March 22, 2012
Poem by Birrell Walsh
Memories of finding you fallen in the field
where so many fell, your striped garment streaming in the breeze.
And were we allies or enemies? It is not revealed.
And was the cause you fell in good or ill?
And were you quick forgotten, or was there fame?
I do not know; I do not think I will. All I can tell
is: Such a shame, such a shame.
Birrell Walsh
Birrell Walsh is a poet/mystic/musician living in the Bay Area.
