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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:49:48 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 140835
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Last Visit
[time] => 2008-03-07 10:02:55
[hometext] => After a long break, I have returned with a special piece, please enjoy.- themonk
[bodytext] => He has been gone for many seasons it is not certain how many, perhaps one perhaps a dozen but across the horizon, where the hills spoke softly to the clouds, snow has smothered the pasture in white silence. He trots along the same little path, leading to the same little house, but leaves no tracks, not even the squeaks of pressing snow and the cows, with their lurking heads bowed, waiting as if they’d quickly vanish once his eyes were to peep away. The dents in the old oak steps, only yards apart, lifted nostalgic thrill within his stride. the door opens to reveal a familiar room, glowing with tender warmth as the memories float, dancing about, playing on the walls flashing their grins and frowns. But beside the cupboard, the old woman sobs, her shoulders jolting fiercely. The sack falls to the floor without the slightest sound-- looming behind her, his hands reaching, pleading at the swirls of gray locks, he doesn’t touch. She gazes at the photo, the beaming little boy behind the glass his lips smirking as though he knew the secret to hope. She stares, craving to burn the oval face into her dreams as if those sparkling eyes were something so foreign, so new. Outside, the snow blew angrily, stuck to the tombstone and melted, leaving trails of dripping tears collecting in the letters of his name. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 154 [topic] => 73 [informant] => themonk [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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