What fear grasps the heart of this child of eight? Greater it is than the imagined monsters which stir in the closet during the still of night. More terror filled than the creäture which lurks beneath his castle bed. More frightening than the shadows that stare intensely through bedroom window’s eye. This fear penetrates, isolates and invades the essence of this boy. It does not fade as the others do, when the Sun says, “Good morning.” This fear is his constant companion, replacing imagination and hope. This fear makes Mother weep behind closed doors.
Father is gone!
Two leather baseball gloves lay dry and frigid in the dark of a toy box. A ball hides behind the couch, alone, dusty and untouched.
There’s an angel that lives in the sky He has strong black wings And knowing eyes He comes to the earth to capture souls He shows no mercy He takes both young and old There’s another angel that lives in
She stands and waits in her wedding gown Like white clouds Floating on her, she walks around she looks out of her window pane Wishing he will come to see her again The broken promise they can mend The fear
The name calls the name spraying the moon with red colour. It touches a nerve, when there is standoff on the lake. A blueish eye invades an iron space between near solids of docks. The gap was widening and the