Kettins

Old Annie

Youd know her house by the drawn blinds,
By the garden wild as a mad dog,
By the pile of unused wood,
And the sad shadow of a frog.

Her husband dead, he'd lost his mind,
Her daughters gone who once were kind,
Her son was taken in the war.
She'd lived on quiet silence more.

Until one morning's sunrise stream
Had woke her from a waking dream,
And sent her soul with choirs singing
Over roof and church bells ringing.

And as we passed along the wynd
We saw her house with angels lined,
And thought she smiled and laughed again,
At how her house was filled with men.

RJET
November 2011-10-31
(Please insert apostrophes where appropriate since Journalscape does not understand them)
(With thanks for the opening line to Robin Robertson
and his poem At Roane Head

Kettins_Bob My Journal Of talents too various to mention, He's nowadays drawing a pension, But in earlier days, His wickedest ways, Were entirely a different dimension.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Mood: Sad Read/Post Comments (0) Share on Facebook		2011-10-31 12:09 PM Old Annie Old Annie Youd know her house by the drawn blinds, By the garden wild as a mad dog, By the pile of unused wood, And the sad shadow of a frog. Her husband dead, he'd lost his mind, Her daughters gone who once were kind, Her son was taken in the war. She'd lived on quiet silence more. Until one morning's sunrise stream Had woke her from a waking dream, And sent her soul with choirs singing Over roof and church bells ringing. And as we passed along the wynd We saw her house with angels lined, And thought she smiled and laughed again, At how her house was filled with men. RJET November 2011-10-31 (Please insert apostrophes where appropriate since Journalscape does not understand them) (With thanks for the opening line to Robin Robertson and his poem At Roane Head Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top