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She’d lived alone since her husband left
Just after the fall of Rome,
Deep in the forest she’d kept herself
In the tangle of trees called home.
He’d left with one of the Legions, they
Recalled to defend the State,
Leaving Britain with Roman roads
And her people, left to their fate.

Aeronwy came from a Druid clan
From a mixture of kings and gods,
She’d never age in the forest glade
Where she lived with her hunting dogs.
She lived on berries and lived on fruits
And the **** that the dogs brought in,
But knew she never must see herself
Reflected in any spring.

‘For if you do,’ said a holy man
‘You will see that the years are fraught,
Your spells and philtres won’t help you then,
You’ll lose what the ancients taught.
The years will tumble over your breast
In a wave, and take your breath,
As long as you live in this vale of trees
You will be immune to death.’

She wept for the loss of her husband then
For he never came back home,
She didn’t know he’d been taken off
With his Legion, back to Rome.
They’d met when a hunting party came
To slaughter her Druid clan,
But she was spared, for her beauty there
Would entrance most any man.

He’d stayed with her in the forest glade
For a month of making love,
She prayed that he’d never leave her, in
A plea to the gods above,
She little knew of the world out there
Of the waning Roman’s might,
And so she wallowed in bitter tears
In her loneliness, each night.

Her time was not as the time for us,
Her minute was like our day,
The years would fly in her restless nights
As she dreamed her life away.
But she woke as fresh and as beautiful
As she’d been the night before,
While scores of agues and deadly plagues
Swept on, in a world at war.

The forest began to shrink as men
Fed wood to their kilns and fires,
What once had been a forest became
A wood, in the sight of spires,
She heard the clang of hammers on steel
At the factories rise and rise,
And soon her trees were surrounded by
New roads, and telephone wires.

Then men came into her forest glade
While cutting a new canal,
She hid in the corner, in the shade
As her trees began to fall.
One day she woke and the cut was there
With a little ****-backed bridge,
She mounted slowly, up to the top
And balanced over the edge.

She gazed down into the water that
Was still as a mirror’s sheen,
And saw the face that began to race
Through the thousand years she’d seen.
Her hair flew wide, and before she died
She muttered a weary moan,
‘I’d be content if it only meant
That my husband came back home!’

David Lewis Paget
Your changing your behavior
Your changing your style
Your changing your beliefs
Just so they can match his
You call it love but it's for from it

If he loved you for you
Then you wouldn't feel
The need to change,
You'd be comfortable
In your own skin.

Conformity isn't love don't let them fool not even once.
Not a poem just an outbursts of thoughts on why conformity doesn't equal love.
This summer. I shall explore my city pick a place to sit. N choose a subject. N I'll write about Him,Her or It.
All poems will be placed in this single thread.

~Winchells Donuts~
She sits crossed legged
With coffee in hand
Chewing on a pencil top
Perhaps she's had too much coffee
Or probably not enough.
She's dotting something down
N looks disappointed every time
She looks up.
Maybe she's awaiting a lover
Or an old time friend
But as it's getting longer
Her chewing gets louder
I can hear the grinding of her teeth
On the wood of a number two.
My order is up n it's time for me to leave.
6-14-14 6:35am


~Local Transit~
She's biting her nails
And rubbing her belly
Maybe she's sick
Or pregnant with a baby.
6-14-14 12:44pm

~My Ex's Home~
Her eyes follow me,
everywhere I go
Yet she doesn't move
Nor say a word
I guess silence engulfed her whole
I don't blame her though,
it's been two years
But how was I supposed to know
That she'd visit her family home
She's fidgetting n she's nervous as hell
I should know, it's how she first felt
When we went on our date.
Four hours pass n I say "lates"
As her brother gives me a handshake
N starts closing the door
An exasperated yell
comes from the kitchen corridor
"Good bye -----???"
Is all I heard, I guess they still
Have that sound proof door.
I walk away n I see her peep
Out the curtain window.
Watching me as I leave.
6/14/14 6:40pm
It's been a while since I've people watch. It's a blissful action I hope to make.

//Follow to stay updated//
 Jun 2014 Heike Borgard
SG Holter
So. Wanna go out for a pint?*
That's what my dad says
Every time we board a plane
To England.

We do everything thoroughly.
Used to go every year, now
His pension only allows every
Other.

It's only right for him if he
Pays. I long since stopped arguing.
He gets tired from walking and
Sightseeing, but his eyes have that

Boyishness during it all that
Makes me believe in a God that
Rewards deserving old men with
Youth towards the end of old age.
You can hold a pebble
in the palm of your hand.
But when it's been pummeled
and turned to sand,
no matter how tight
you clench your fingers together
it'll slip through your hands.
Oh how the damaged ones slip through time.
Forgotten n spread across shore lines. Where different waves reach their lips only be pulled away before they reach,

Untouched n unfaze they become apart of the maze.
Left,
Right,
Up or
Down,
It's such a confusing haze. Her walls are high n you'll never find the center place.
 Jun 2014 Heike Borgard
PrttyBrd
You are an artiste
painting with words
shading with wit
coloring with vocabulary
and adding texture with subtle metaphor

There is melody in the emotion
elicited between the words
between the very letters
that you weave into the heart
into my heart.

3D pictures forged in the mind's eye
tacked to the soul
with each line
with each word
with each letter

You are an artiste
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