She would have placed the baby
In the center of her heart
And not allowed the stealthy
Death to come, but death came in
The depth of night, hidden by
The shadows of the dim lit
Dark; the soft footsteps crept and
Stole the child away, leaving
But an empty shell for dawn's
Cruel light, to show all stiff and
Cold with morning's aching chill.
The mother grieves in the depth
Of her broken heart and soul
And she knows she always will.
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Comments: 22
But, sadly predictable.
I don't mean that in a harsh way of course.
Gather Broadcasting: Have it your way
The clue is in the broken limb, (of which you can see a bird in the wood grain too.)
I just wanted to stop by since I am finally going through what is now listed as under 5,100 pieces of gather new mail that is sitting in my inbox on here.
With that mentioned I just came across either a mailing from you yourself, or someone else brought this piece to my attention. You or they felt that your creation should be shared with the gather community, which I am very glad that it was passed on to me to view. So I wanted to say Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to publish it here on gather for us to all view. :o)
As well before I leave you I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year... in 2009 :o)