Saturday 3 August 2013

Dear Beaver

Low lying, in the bush n' hedges,
She picks straws and twigs,
To rest 'fore another adventure,
For the cracking of her eggs.

The Nightingale sings
Her ballad for a long stay.
Yet, there he comes
Unwilling to change his way

Walks o'er her dreams
He analysis his spark.
That night she accepts chaos,
She suppresses to sing, opposes to work.

Two moon rises hence forth
She flies to find new grain.
Dear beaver,
Don't do it again.

The Purpose

Sitting on a wooden chair,
Into the abyss I stare.
A token, a task and a tear,
Was all that she left here.

For when I fumbled, when I crumbled,
She was there, keeping me humbled.
I wish her sight in dark, peace in strife,
Hope she finds a purpose in life.