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Array
(
[sid] => 114546
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => All the Days
[time] => 2006-02-09 13:41:39
[hometext] => Sometimes death comes as a relief
[bodytext] => Another biting winter morn chilled the bones already crippled by disease Deep set eyes on a pallid face, body held upon two sticks Faced the battle of the day, poor soldier of misfortune Brave, not complaining, for parents sake On the riverbank path he stared at the water Watched its meandering to the hazy distant dot Wishing he had wings to fly into the ether To plummet cross the valley floor and rise o'er jagged peaks This morn the bench on which he sat was anothers resting place With ashen face the old man watched, hands clasped tight as though in prayer Nervously the young boy stood, till drawn by beckoned hand The stranger smiled and closed his eyes, then drew long breath to speak Fear not said he, in tones of old Within those eyes I see your pain The sting of youth so heavy weighed Upon a fame so frail and light Come higher boy, pray take my hand We have a journey far to take Thou shalt not stumble, nor need for rest Till the day is dark and the moon is light The young boy smiled, released the shackles as the sticks fell to the ground Clasped the hand of the bearded messenger, shrouded in mystic white And in the book the old man held, his name so freshly scribed As they walked into the radiant light the ink began to dry Still on the ground lay no more than a shell, discarded husk of passing Peaceful smile though eyes were cold, torment driven out As the sun set quickly in the grip of winter sky One short day ended all the days [comments] => 6 [counter] => 347 [topic] => 32 [informant] => puppy_dog_eyes [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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