Poem -

Camelot

Yellow mustard flowers trampled
into  sand that is undying
.
Men that fade into blue jeans
Rifted and worn into holes

Life set into a mist and rain
Hanging like a dead fairy

No pretense at opposition
Can a war victim be a hippy?

Lady of the lake my dear
Hurry now and interfere
King Author is delayed
 

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author
Violet Freese

Thank you Barry for taking the time to read it and comment. Much appreciated.

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