West Poetry

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Hidden, I Look

As I was found beneath the blazing oak,
Held near against my will. I there awoke,
To find no shelter from its awful gaze,
Struck blind, I wizen as my strength decays.

And there I saw some form within the smoke,
Take shape before my mortal eyes and fear,
My voice was stolen, as I wept and choked
Tears burning filled my eyes with visions clear. 


The Author's first poem.

Corey McConnellComment