Poetry
There are no magic words
or clever rhyme
to stay the aching of the heart
or silence of the night void of sleep or peace
which haunts until sun finds you
solitary to greet the new day
in hope of new love to ease the pain.
(Preface)
A tale and a treat I have for you, a twist familiar, but a story new.
It begins long ago in a place and time not yours to know.
Riddle, it may seem, but I tell it true, this fable familiar; but new to you. So began our journey. End this story of nursery and liars den. Word of caution, words of warning, you might be a character within this yarn. So listen attentively if you care to return or I leave you behind to be butters churn.
No need to get ahead of ourselves, child; now, now calm yourself. I jest. Consider it part of the story dress. Remember, I’m the Woodland Fairy, the very best! Doesn’t that put your fear at rest?
Let’s turn the page in my magic brew, so I may bring this wildly exciting story to you.
Memories run through you
We pour ourselves out two fingers at a time.
To those who down us like Carmel whisky.
Disposable as all entertainment, seldom recognized for life’s light.
Some take us neat while others must chill us over ice.
Our strength too much for their delicate senses.
Disposable as they refuse responsibility to home us in hearts chambers.
We are top-shelf and rut gut alike.
Learning to play the part of those who roll us over their tongues.
Disposable as once we have emptied a new fifth takes center stage.
We bleed a thousand shots.
Each one the last, each one the first.
Disposable only to those who consume us.
