They were great
and they were honest.
They were proud—
they were the bravest.
Of their glory
they were defenders.
They didn't know
the word surrender.
They were gone
before I came,
Before I get
the chance to meet them.
My ancestors
are now a hoary
myth, a legend,
a fiction story.
I can't imagine such ancestors
Left behind them such decendants.
This is my Day 65 of the 100 Days of Poetry Challenge. You can visit Steemit School on discord if you want to learn more about it or if you want to join our daily poetry lesson.
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