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Battle of Chickamauga
by steven baliko
Light mist and night's veil,
fail to console leaves remaining
where they once were green.
Lost like soldiers tripping,
staggering over bodies, friends,
strangers-sickened by stagnant
blood and the rotting percussion
of rain...
And these three remain:
faith, hope and love,
but the greatest of these is fallen
and we must wait until spring.