She was tiring in a house filled with Creaks and silence,
Always would he come home and find Her sitting forthhence.
And so through the solemn day, she Traveled afar,
To a place he could not find if the Door pushed ajar.
So far, indeed, she went to sorrowful Lengths of pity,
She fell with a grace of the yet graceful shining city.
And so when he came home, and Found her nought,
He searched and searched forevermore in silent thought.
And when he came knocking at her Mother's door,
He was told the unfortunties, now Told as folklore.
YOU ARE READING
Where All Dawn Breaks - A Poetry Book
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry, both mine and not. If it was written by somebody else, credit will be given as possible.
