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jwesley
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563
Spring, Texas

0 posted 2000-05-25 06:51 PM


The Cold

And the child lay cuddled
against the warmth of it's mother,
and the mother grew cool,
then was warm no longer.
The child took chill,
and shivered,
grew cold,
and died,
and there was nothing left,
but the cold,
the cold,
the cold.

W. James Beard, Jr.


© Copyright 2000 Wesley James Beard, Jr. - All Rights Reserved
Swåmp¤Faerÿie
Member
since 2000-03-29
Posts 358
Illinois
1 posted 2000-05-25 11:16 PM


This is terrible...............a good poem....so so terrible...do you know what i mean??¿ How very sad,i beleie i'll have to cry.

swamp


 And there she weaves by night and day,
a magic web of colours gay.~Tennyson

Joel the wolf
Senior Member
since 2000-04-06
Posts 1333
Angels Camp
2 posted 2000-05-26 02:28 AM


A tragedy in any case.
Joel.

 I howl a mournful song, that echos within my chambered heart, for all to read? nay for all to feel.

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