I'll take with me my Drummer.
I'll hold on to all my memories,
Be gone before late summer.
I don't know if the people there
Will share my native tongue.
A circle has been my influence.
Each tuneless song been sung.
As I'm weaving sun and moon,
I plan yet another poem.
My entire life I've been here,
So I must be heading home.
By S.H. Onyx
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