www.whyville.net Sep 7, 2008 Weekly Issue



iamtodd
Whyville Poet

Forever

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FRONT PAGE
CREATIVE WRITING
SCIENCE
HOT TOPICS
POLITICS
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PANDEMIC
the whistling air giving me such
a cold shiver,
i lie down in essence of you
looking at the skies above

the blue sky, and beaming sun,
i gave a small squint,
i thought of you,
out in the open

a circle in the woods,
with nothing but trees,
whistling and telling me something,

she's gone

i lay in the middle of the circle
with tall, green grass
tickling my fingertips
i think of you

i'm out in the open,
alone,
without you

hearing the sound of the roaring waters
like a waterfall
i know you're here
i feel your deep presence

the waters cease
the trees begin to fade away

Everything then goes black

i awake,
only in the essence of my dreams
can I think of your captivating presence
i miss you

i pull up the covers
and remember
the trees whistling to me

i hold my hands,
like a cold winter's day . . .
i take a tear from my dreary eyes,
i know the reason . . .

she's gone . . .
for now . . .
forever

forever.

 

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