My White Warriors

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a perfect sea of white,

poised with perfection and grace.

never before have i smiled upon

a stage so distinguished.

purity seemed to be sewn into the moment,

with a parade of integrity,

love proceeded in pairs.

sitting beside myself in the moment,

i wanted nothing more than

to scream until my lunges gave out,

to clap until my fingers fell off,

because before me were the women who taught me

to love until my heart gave out.

i wish i had the heart of Hercules,

so that i might show them the strength of the gods,

or rather, mirror their capabilities.

one by one until one-hundred twenty-one,

i remembered memories left to dust.

times of smiles and laughs, funny faces and hugs.

even the bad, though few, were better than none.

a perfect procession of elegance and beauty,

it was true, they were walking away,

or perhaps, walking toward.

this was an army waving white,

with roses for swords,

pins for honor and glory.

these were warriors, crusaders,

marching forth as a beckon of light,

into a clouded world beyond.

the world will never be the same,

when my ladies ride at dawn.





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