Avonlea’s Kindred Treasure
Robin’s red breast
Is the tresses of thee
And forest eyes
Taketh in all it can of ugly me.
Soft hands and skin
Makes me feel like kin.
Thy love for everything
And everything for thee
Overpower everything that we knew.
Thy imagination doth run
As wild as the free-spirited wind,
Through lands unseen and unknown,
Through tragedies and pains
That only thee and the wind can bemoan.
Thy hair flows with its kindred spirit, the wind.
Thy rosy petals doth open to the kind sun,
Twisting, bending and turning ‘round thee.
Thou art the red wanderer.
Thou art a beautiful treasure,
Dear Anne with an ‘e’.
About the Creator
Ava D
Writing, animals, food and music— makes for a perfect day… 😁 I am bringing pieces of me and my heart to the page that I don’t show elsewhere, my good side and my bad sides— hope all my sides are good stories to tell. Enjoy!!
Poetry
Fiction
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author4 days ago in Fiction
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