Brian H. Appleton

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a long forgotten forest calls my wounded heart
I hear the wolf howling at the moon
and the meloncholy loon crys ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ somewhere on glassy
surface of that
lake where
she held
my
old soul
captive in the
morning mist and dew
among the fern fronds and mushrooms
where spring makes soft love to the dark earth
Persephone and Hades, I feel both his pain and hers