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Month: January 2019

STORY

By candlelight her story told
whispered in the humble night,
there is more there than can be heard,
treasure in her gifts and words.

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TOIL

She scorns not the gleaners field
nor that infertile soil
nor crumbs from the table fallen
or the labours of her toil.

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SPIRIT

See how the feather freely floats,
caught in the draft of spirit,
she is learning now its language,
is resting in its merits.

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WISDOM

they speak without a chosen thought
They who hide the treasured gift
But she who earths the precious gold
Knows how soon the price can shift.

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SHELTER

Oh stand with me, yes stand with me
Beside this drifting shore
Where the wind eats at the harbour
Where the rope is tied secure.

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AFTERMATH

It cut her short and stole her breath
And broke her heart in three
The little ship is cut adrift
On the anger of the sea.

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LOSS

I caught her eyes and held her hand
and we watched the darkness fall
across the evening twilight
broken by the morepork’s call.

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