Icy Heart and Warm Love

Chapter Twenty

"What's this?" Kalda asked as Britain put a book in her lap.

"Poetry," he replied seriously.

Kalda scoffed, then laughed.

"You read poetry?" she snickered. "Man, that is just so priceless! Do the others know?"

"I personally don't read it," Britain answered, ignoring her laughing, "but I want you to start reading it. Since you'll be staying with me and not working for me anymore, you will need things to do."

"So you're making me read poetry?" Kalda whined. "I bet not even France reads this stuff!"

"Well, then I guess that this is what will seperate us," Britain explained. "I even made sure that I gave you the romantic ones instead of the boring ones. Now, I expect you to be halfway through that book by the time I finish making lunch for us."

"What?" Kalda cried. "How am I going to get halfway through this? I can't even read poetry more or less understand it!"

"Well, if you quit yelling at me, maybe I'll teach you," Britain calmly answered.

Kalda sighed, flipping to the first page.

"How do I do this?" she asked.

"Well, each poem has a specific rhythm," he explained. "This one's rhythm is AB, AB, CD, CD, and so on. It's called an alternating rhyme poem."

"I guess that makes sense," Kalda reluctantly gave in.

"This next one has a haiku rhythm," he went on, "meaning that it has five syllables, seven syllables, and then five more syllables. Now, this one, is what we poets call an ekphrasis poem. It uses imagery to tell the story."

"What's imagery?" Kalda wondered.

"Glad you asked," he grinned. "Imagery appeals to the five senses, which is our sense of smell, touch, taste, sight, and hearing. It also gives us mental images."

"So like an ocean scene or a forest scene?" Kalda questioned.

"That's the secret," Britain said with a smile.

"So then how do I read poetry?" Kalda inquired.

"Dramatically," he answered.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.

"I'm serious," Britain stated. "That's how poetry is to be written, as well as read."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"As long as the story and the rhythm makes sense, nothing else has to."

"Well, this one does talk about love," Kalda said, pointing to a poem on the fourth page.

"See? I knew you would like it," he replied. "Now, remember, halfway."

With that, he walked off.

Kalda sighed as she started reading the first poem.

It was talking about love and family, and Kalda suddenly drifted off to what had happened the night before.

My brothers looked so hurt and upset because of me, she realized. I don't know how I'm going to forgive them or myself.

Kalda sighed as she continued to read a different poem.

"Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?" the first line read.

At least Switzerland was nice to me, Kalda remembered with a smile.

He really came through in the end to help her, and Kalda didn't know how she would ever thank him for that.