~ cold foggy dull days,
as I gaze, at the church on the hill, but on sight of the gothic devil, i shudder upon each step, on each level, ~ i am reminded of you duleep, as water droplets trickles down my cheek, as i weep every single night before i sleep, ~ your unshorn-hair was cut, but it is i, that am most hurt, a matchlock rifle was once in your hand, but it is was england where you were to land, ~ our brothers were to die, for you will see them if you stare deeply into my right eye, if only I could wish them adieu and say goodbye, but know this duleep, they watch over us in the sky... ~ we shall rise again like the mythical phoenix...
~~ the church on the hill 27/10/2020
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