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Claire Anderson Poem
As she went walking down the lane
The flowers seemed to bloom and rise
And as she walked she murmured Jane
The little sister gone for days
The trees grew tall the grass grew thick
But none of Jane did they find quick
She’s lost forever some did cry
She’s gone to heaven to the sky
I soon will find her she replied
And every day she looked and cried
Though time went by with out a trace
She did not find the little face
The trees grew tall the grass grew thick
But none of Jane did they find quick
She’s lost forever some did cry
She’s gone to heaven to the sky
Week then month then year went by
She walked the lane ever high
Rain nor snow nor sleet did stop
The now grown women from her walk
Copyright © Claire Anderson | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Claire Anderson Poem
She walks along,
In silent daze,
Over hearing sounds of gray.
But hear along this silent path,
She watches droplets hit his hat.
Yet hat is not nor man right there,
No tall coat and short dark hair.
Was he a dream?
Did he exist?
The small thoughts grew,
Doubtful and new,
Of who’s, How’s, along with Why’s,
About him, his hat, and Questions of lies.
Imagination, Conjecture, what a strange thing!
That fills the gaps the of empty hopes and dreams.
A single thing unknown to man,
Where impossibilities unstoppable and grand,
Grow beyond what we can hold,
Yet our heads consume it all.
So then if I am so alone,
Is this man truly unknown?
Someone yet know one that does not exist?
Or am I over thinking this?
Copyright © Claire Anderson | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Claire Anderson Poem
Through the meadows across the plains
Over mountains and fields of grain
With no companions to lead the way
Where life blooms and fades away
Flowers wilt and leaves fall
When cold north winds answer the call
The green turns orange but still he walks
With slow confused and thinking thoughts
To lose the love that he adores
Of family, friends, and sad neighbors
All at once his world did fall
But time wears on without a loll
The memories flash through his head
Of flickering fires over fed
Of panic, confusion and worry
With no thought but hurry
And now he’s sure he didn’t once think
Of family roaming alone in the brink
But worst of all, the question is
Can he live with what he missed?
Copyright © Claire Anderson | Year Posted 2012
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