Before The Line

Four winds blow from distant shores
Echoes of the land before
Where time was motion before the line
Now times perused by copper dimes
Money spent to bide ones time

Thoughts betrayed by the light of day
With frivolous words that I would say
To mark the passage of my way
Before the dawn of border grey

What light before the four winds blow
Besieged by plight of fallen snow
To only wither here beside the haze
Trapped within this desolate maze

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Copyright © Darryn John Murphy