In One Century
part IV

Mother died,
As evil’s rising dark tide,
And for years
All the fears
Were warrior widow tears.
Nightingale,
With skin pale,
Nursing warriors in waning,
On the lines,
Deadly finds,
Attempting death’s restraining.
Nightingale
Had learned her mother’s training.



Gloom
to old Poetry
Back to Part 3~~Turn the Page ~~ On to Part 5

to the Index~~~to Poetry 1999 ~~~to Darkness ~~~to Sal-li’s Story