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Pick yourself a flower
From the fields
Within my heart,

I make you a promise:
My kind, caring fragrance,
From you,
Will never, ever part.

Pick yourself a berry
From the branches
Of my soul's vine,

My giving, eternal sweetness
Will remain with you forever -
Beyond
The end of time.

By Lady R.F ©2016
Dedicated to my precious family
and friends.
***
Wishing you all
a very happy new year!
These winter days go one by one
and seldom does much happen;

yesterday my cat murdered and ate
a chickadee on the deck and the blood

and snow mixture left a pattern
similar to what a painting of

Vincent Van Gogh’s severed ear
might look like on fresh linen.

I let the killer inside, she licked
her paws--curled on my lap.
is like cotton twine,
if you put a match

to string, it will
burn away,

but if dipped
in beeswax

the flame will be
slow and sure.
 Dec 2016 Scott F Hemingway
Rowan
Kyk! Kan jy dit sien?! Dis wolke.
Dis waar! Dit is gemaak uit spoke.
Mamma roep ons, lyk soos kos vir wolwe.
En boetie sin lyk soos 'n klomp golwe.
Ek kyk op en sien 'n hartjie.
Dit is groter as my hele handjie.
Mamma se ek moet my kos eet.
Maar ek hou glad nie van die beet.
Ek kyk weer op en weet ek speel in die sand.
Wolke is vir my so, so interessant.
A poem by my little sister - Annuschka Deysel - 10.
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