Shreder -> RE: Poetry~Compressed Meaning (12/14/2009 9:10:53)
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The Face of an Angel A fire crackles in the glowing hearth As I sit here--alone, in peace My mind passing over days gone by I think of previous friends My life has been a long one I've had my my share of grief and mirth And as Christmas draws near once more The thoughts of joy are brought to mind But then my peace is torn apart By the thundering of little feet They patter in and gather round “Tell us a story, Grandpa” I sigh, stare into the fire And begin It was many and many a year ago Before your parents were even born For I was but a boy myself Caught up in a winter storm Oh, it was a terrible storm Fierce winds howled, laden with snow I could not see, lost and cold I stumbled this way and that Trying to find my way home, in vain Then at last I saw a light A glow in the shrieking storm I stumbled toward it, exhausted And fell against the wooden door, knocking Moments later it was opened And I beheld the face of an angel Blond hair had she, and eyes of blue A deep, deep blue, as if the restless ocean Were contained within those starry orbs I had but that one glimpse, then collapsed I awoke in bed, my own bed My family huddled around me Their concern radiating in their eyes “Whe-Where is the girl?” “What girl?” “Are you okay?” “I, I think so, but where is she?” “Who?” “That beautiful girl,” “With blond hair and eyes of blue.” “You must have been dreaming,” I let it drop, never mention it again Later I learn there was no such girl for miles around “Was she real, Grandpa?” “If I knew, would I tell you?” Giggling, and a plaintive protest “Grandpa…” I laugh “Now run along and play” And they do, as children will Ah, to be young again I smile, curl up in my chair And by the warmth of the fire, fall asleep. C&C
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