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The One In Black Cape

Updated on April 7, 2017

Rumors have it that you are cold and stealthy. With thy frail, frosty hands you stole what you did not give.

But why are you so insensitive? They say you do not feel a touch, no surprise then that you did not feel my pain when I suffered her loss.

Some say wherever she went, I went. You watched and saw that a love as pure would not have ended, and so you vented.

You robbed me of her touch. You envious spectator of happiness, roaming with your winged black cape, like dew you clouded the dawn of my day.

A mother's ashen matter is now cocooned in earth six beneath because you were impatient, thinking your time is more important.

She was too young to go, at 23 years or so, but no, you could not wait to know, to know if I was old enough for her to go.

You stole a life. A mother. A youth.

And now I vent.

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    • Orville Harmon profile image
      Author

      Orville Harmon 4 months ago from Edmonton, AB-Canada

      Thanks Aubrey, and I'm glad that you liked the poem.

    • Orville Harmon profile image
      Author

      Orville Harmon 4 months ago from Edmonton, AB-Canada

      Thanks Jamie! I appreciate your comment.

    • AudreyHowitt profile image

      Audrey Howitt 4 months ago from California

      I so enjoyed your imagery here--

    • jhamann profile image

      Jamie Lee Hamann 4 months ago from Reno NV

      An interesting and well written poem. Jamie