She sees the coming of the world’s end

Outstanding Piece by a beautiful writer…

i miss you!

Jane Dougherty Writes

The world shrinks, a wizened apple

colour of ditch water,

and even the owls hunt afar.

Will you still be here

when the blossom returns,

and the cold is chased by the rising sun ?

Or will you have shrunk into the past

like the empty walnut shells

and chestnut husks

that litter the damp grass?

Listen to the east wind in the branches

and tell me if their song of the icy steppes

will still trot in your head

when the lilting melody of the south

lulls the day to sleep.

I see the white hair

of the children of the mist

and hear their laughter,

though the world is ending,

and the tide will ebb no more.

Hold tight to my hands,

let us not sink into the dark alone.

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