Through the Storm.

The rain rumbles like a beast in the hills,
Roaring out its triumph as it feasts on its kills.
Laying on the stone floor, I look at the roof of my cave,
This was a choice made by only the brave,
To live like an animal, free in the wild,
Though most would agree this is no place to raise a child.

Lighting flashes like a fire of the gods,
I sit still, determined to survive against the odds.
I hear the pack is moving, the leader loudly howls,
Despite their bluster in the wind, they move silently as owls.
I've pulled my cloak tighter against many storms,
Now I'm smiling softly at the child in my arms.

Slowly now, the storm clouds recede,
The sun shall now shine, silently, I plead,
That the deer shall come to eat.
All of us could do with some fresh and tender meat.
The parting clouds reveal a clean new world,
The perfect playspace for my wild little girl.

Bridge of Terabithia

Do you remember our place of sorrows?

Our hidden world?

The land where only two knew the way?

Our Bridge of Terabithia?

Now the ground slides from beneath me as I recall:

A promise made, forgotten by you perhaps.

Neither shall go without the other.

I still obey our secret oath.

An ancient branch, spanning the stream,

Covered in moss, it creaked, it shook,

You warned me not to cross–

Do you remember?

Now, I have seen our hidden spot-

But from afar, never fear,

I did not venture closer than need be,

And it is changed, as you shall see.

The branch has fallen.

The mossy log on which you sat,

Yours and Nature's throne,

From where you laughed, it is no more.

If you should go, with me, of course,

For fear of a childhood curse,

You would not recognize it,

It is simply not the same.

It is fallen, now, a last reminder of your power over me,

My first broken heart, it is gone, gone for ever,

Forgotten, just like you, my dear.

Our ill-fated Bridge of Terabithia.

Is that me?

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

With my face towards the floor and elbows on my thighs,

A cascade of it is falling, like my life, before my eyes.

I feel the razor thrumming as it slides against my cheek,

I'll have the shortest haircut of anyone this week!

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

I shake my buzzèd head back and forth,

Ah, the liberation from hair, what is it worth?

I'd pay a hundred dollars in bills and in cents,

For what I got today, and Zilch is what I spent!

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

As my dad just grazes my ear,

I slightly shed a tiny tear,

But hell, I don't really care,

Cause he just shaved my hair!

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

My dream

It was a dream.

Only a dream, I tell myself.

Or was it?

Was it a whispering of things yet to come?

The voice of the Ether, saying,

Yes, this shall be.

Will these things come to pass?

Or have they already gone by?

These sights, remembered in my waking moment,

Making me smile,

Will I ever see them out of my mind's eye?

After all, it seemed, smelt, felt so real.

The shadows, the cars, the smile on my sleeping face.

Can it be untrue?

Yes, it could, for it was just a dream.

But a good dream.

Why?

Why, one may ask, does the Earth spin round?
Why do things never fall up, always fall down?
Why are trees green, why do they grow?
Why, one might ask, do you want to know?

Why is rain wet, the desert dry?
Why is it that fish can never fly?
Why does a joke make you smile?
Why would joy make you hum all the while?

Why is the sun the of a golden hue?
Why is the night sky black and the daytime blue?
Why do the rivers flow down to the sea?
Why, oh why, don't you love me?