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This story may contain sensitive material or discuss topics that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Vocal.
Suddenly, a cap,
then a scarf,
finally a gray,
knitted sweater.
We are silent in our game:
White lamb,
gray lamb,
shaggy lamb.
Somewhere, a photograph remains
of me under the cherry tree and
the lamb resting its head on my lap.
We are silent in our game:
White lamb,
gray lamb,
shaggy lamb.
Somewhere, a memory remains:
my touch, a gentle ballet on your head
his blade, a silent waltz upon your throat.
White lamb,
gray lamb,
shaggy lamb.
In silence, we played,
in scream, you stayed.
Comments (2)
Oh wow. This gave me goosebumps!
I felt chills down my spine. Such a heavy flashback, with such a poetic twist. Good job!