Saturday, February 6, 2010

Trusted Friend

"Dave called!" I happily exclaim to my son, thoughtfully walking into the bedroom with a patient smile, an abundant supply of fresh california dates and locally harvested, unshelled walnuts. Along for the rawsome ride; a silver hammer for cracking and a the prettiest crystal plate for eating upon ... in glorious style.

I read half a dozen newly created poems for my trusted friend, who is now afraid I will write a poem about him and post my wordy perfection upon the pages of Cackling aloud, as only befitting a well fed Witch on an almight mission, might, I feed a man so big in stature's quiet fright ...

 Scrolling down the Goddess-inspired page, I feel the power of my word and all whom I touch as I bleed for those so many, in helpless and ever hopeful need. This be the only weightless sword I ever shall carry. No hatchet be mine to hide or bury. For I am the deliverer of truth and moral justice. This is enough unto is all-seeing own.

Grateful for a good, old friend whom has never trampled on my flowing virginal growns or cast unkind frowns my child-like way. All I know I want to say to the friend who called upon this originally hell-bent day, is "Thank you, dear Dave, for being there". Making it all the more worthwhile for me; my unearthly jewels to eaglerly share.

Now, it is even easier to remember ONE MORE PERSON DOES TRULY  CARE!

Katherine Marion


The verses pretty much speak for themselves. As every stream winds into the mgihty river, eventually roaring forth, and emptying into an infinite sea ...


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