A TROUBADOUR’S tales…

A column by SARA ROWAN, consisting of delightfully crafted poems she spun from threads of imagination throughout the month of September.

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Whistle through the trees
Fair, bold, and young
No time to scream
As you remain forever young.

FOREVER YOUNG
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My, my
How young, how sweet, 
My, my
What a treat.

How big your eyes look,
How happy is your smile,
Perhaps this walk to Granny’s
Was worth all the while.

LITTLE RED
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Bite into the apple, dear,
Don’t mind the hint of green
Take one bite, it’ll be divine
A pretty apple for a pretty sight.

GRIMHILDE
—-------------------------------
The wooden floorboards creak
Even when there is no-one upstairs
I checked before but I don’t want to check again.
I’m scared. I’m scared. 

I hear the footsteps before I see.
The veil of white smiling menacingly
Advances closer, sickeningly
I hit it before I hear the scream.

DECEPTION
—-------------------------------
Love is a bird
It flies unclipped
No way to control it
No way to escape it.

It finds us all, at some point, you see
Whether we like it or not.
It’s our choice to hear the call
Or not spare it a second thought.

CHOICES
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Stars of the night
Shine and shine bright

Remind me of you
Of the sickening truth.

I MISS YOU.
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Written by Sara Rowan.