Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Diodotus in Cimmeria #68 (Fairy Tale)

My mother told me a story about a child who could fly to try and comfort me and help me fall asleep. Instead it made me melancholy. I pretended I was slumbering and when she left my room I wrote this poem about him:
"It breaks my heart
to see him flying around
When I feel so low
down here on the ground
Falling lifeless from dead branches
Starlings and thrushes
Who in the haze of eternal night
Ate berries from Buckthorn bushes"
(Kelsey Bee)

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