12 Dec 2006 @ 05:48, by swanny
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There was a boy, that ran wild among the reeds and leaves.
He loved the sting of the wind on his face, as ran like beauty black,
on the palmed beaches of his imagination and across the stolden summer greens.
There to, he would box the red wing black birds that scolded and jabed at his
tortured soul, for coming to close to their nested futures.
Always they would win and he would cower and run away to nowhere, searching,
longing for his dead home that never was.
They said a rogue tornado had stolden him from his heart.
That's what they said anyway.
So he fell in love with the sun cause it would ease and warm the chill and pain
before the dawn, as he would wake each morn from the depths of the cold and dark
nights that drowned him as he slept.
One day, after much betrayal, he sold what was left of his ravaged body
to the money pimps and by chance it bought him a meeting with four small angels.
Fearing they would leave him, he captured and caged their goodness in a gilded cage.
There goodness helped to warm him as he braved the icy hell of his uncertain prison.
Sadly though one by one the angels died, till after the third one his tears had turned
from pain to blood. Swallowing the last bittersweet honey of them, he knew in his silly
pretense that he would set the last angel free. He held it in his hands, sad goodbye and off
it winged to where it would.
The warmth gone he sat as if to die but somewhere, very deep,very very deep,
"crack", a tear moistened seed broke through its husk and began its journey to the sun.
A.G.Jonas
(c) 2006
Canada
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