I walk with a bookmark

I walk with a bookmark down to the cenotaph
In a brigade of bookmarks so red in the sun

The girls of the past are waiting
With garlands of daisies for our shoulders

We are the bookmarks of history remembering
The girls that we loved, that we danced with

The sting of war is removed
The scorpions hang their heads in shame

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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