Sagacious words

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary. ~ Khalil Gibran

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Song of Lament

She sat there for hours.
And as she meowed and screeched,
The air stormed.
The pitiful sounds played in the wind like moving echos.
She just sat there and sang her sorrowful song.
And it was beseeching sadness-
The tone, that came from her throat.
The two little kittens played impatiently around her.
She seemed oblivious to them
And even as they leaned on her trying to get her attention,
she angrily pushed them away with her paw,
Though her face didn't change,
Her eyes didn't move
And her song of lament didn't stop.


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