A.E.K.G Navrilith Poems
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Each One Her Own… And Hers To Keep
I looked out of my window for the source of the noise.
The sky was crying.
Not in anger or delight,
But in a faded hope,
For those still trudging and others who are running,
From the path of life.
A dismal site to behold,
Like a faded watercolour.
In my minds eye,
A gray heath.
Earth landing with the resounding THUD! … Of the eternal sleep.
No music; just silent tears.
One mourning keen from one so young.
And the sky cried.
(Just a brief shower, but to them it will last forever)
Dear Father Christmas
Dear Father Christmas,
This year I would like:
A water pistol to shoot my baby brother,
Some toffee to cease his cry,
Fake money so I can trick my sister,
With heads on either side,