Fae-Oaksdaughter

Bubbling water for tea boiling, makes a chorus for the harp plunking chords in the background

Counting bottlecaps and checking numbers as if 1 and 2 -enough of each- will tally my soul as whole

The solitary soldier ventures on without regard to fame or fortune. His fellows fell facedown in the mud, Forever by his side for in his haunted mind, they are still calling for aid. Lest we forget the voices of the 'damned' of those who survived and those who thrive even though they've lost both friends and limbs.

I've been granted a stay of execution; my life is not my own, until the tomb of canopies closes o'er my autumnal home. Maples set fire to this azure sky; Bunsen burners hide the same coral heart within a clockwork chest, an electric blue flame. The arrow pierced the rabbit; the madness of the hare fled from friends and thickets fierce to burrow tunnels bare. Yet from a pool of fallen leaves - that bloody lusty stain mushrooms sprout with eager feet growth and decay, their timeless refrain. We, too, will raise up poppies and cheerful yellow mums; scythe take all the wheat, while with chaff, harvesters do sums. For we are mathematicians, l

The sky so high I wish I could fly with the swallows dive through the clouds. Like a shoal of fish shimmering as a single wave, I too ~ wish ~ to be part of something greater as I dive through these clouds swimming the sky.

I think I'll put on my rose glasses to-day; Sorrow seems all the sweeter in pink. I tire of humdrum gray and ennui blue, but anything can be borne, methinks, with rose tinted glasses on. Temper my mourning with petal-soft color of blushing sunrise, Soften disappointment with shades I know I once loved. and maybe, someday I can start anew, looking through spectacles                   clear and true.