Poem -
Creatures Are We
"And Their Tref"
Creatures Are We - “And Their Tref”
The meadow stir, of a soundless purr.
A whistling in the air, to all beware.
The pasture of the valley, is uneasy.
An eagle scream on high, seek shelter a storm is on the rise.
Wait, its the enmity of men, crossing the plains.
For root of evil, is their hearts gain.
The creatures all fled, of mans treacherous trefs.
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