If morning be bright
and the day one glorious
glow of light
on the fading snows,
they will still be dying
in the broken lands
as we gaze into the azure
hollow and think
of spring, dreaming
of May ripening
into June and summer,
and they will still be dying,
in our glimmering hours,
the innocent ones,
the smiling children
in the photographs
that will bw published
beside the images
of their shrouded bodies.
08.03.2026
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