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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 20:13:31 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 75877
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Visits with the Crone
[time] => 2004-12-15 11:33:21
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Misty, the morning When you came to call Sleep still held my limbs Creaking and aching I stepped down My feet touching, Young and yielding ground. Gently you placed Everything you knew In my hands Whose leather and bone Did not disgust you Whose claws you entrusted With all that was yours. Sitting you told me A life of stories And when evening came You took your rest beneath my hill. Morning came and rouse did I Letting you sleep away And midday sun Warmed your heart And breath was yours again. Misty, the morning When you came to call And placed your name above my door You sat your haunches down By old Crone’s fire And ate your fill and drank your thirst And listened to the songs Then late one day you took your leave Walking down the path An age had passed A season gone And all was dark once more And so I wait In cavern great And wait for you to come Step down from the tree you hold Flute in hand, To play once more your song. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 19 [informant] => winged [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => InspirationalPoems )
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