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 Sep 2013 Rosalie Walker
unnamed
A sad little girl,
sheltered and protected,
never really had much of a reason to feel bad,
but tired of thinking about all these sad thoughts
worried about things older then her.

She doesn't cry at the right time,
she cries when she hears a sad song on the radio,
She weeps about death,
She thinks about her own
all the things she would miss just because she wasn't grown

she's so tired
she's thinkin all these mad things
Dreaming all these sad dreams
so alone.
Then her brother calls and says
the TV show's on and she's gonna miss it.
She wipes her eyes on her palms and her nose on her sleeve
she runs downstairs to watch cartoons on the TV
There is a mirror in my mind
Reflections of the past,
And when I look I see my life
Start, betwixt and last.
This sheet of glass reveals to me
The things that I once knew,
When I was young I looked to see
But then, memories were few.

Now I’m old and memories fade
The mirror needs a shine.
But memories are just like drink!
And older wines grow fine.
Images sparkle now and then
They bubble to the top.
Then I remember where and when,
And wish they’d never stop.

I see a baby, small and fair,
A boy who grows so fast.
Sisters, brothers, mother, dad,
Theatre, stage and cast.
If only freeze frame could be used,
And I could linger there.
Forever more to be amused
No loss, no death, no care.
 Sep 2013 Rosalie Walker
Tea
How do you write love?
LOVE
id say like that.
or perhaps its when a little brother grows older
and he still lets you call him little brother
as he stands, stature climbing over yours

or perhaps its in a little sisters
toothless grin,or dimpled chin
and silly giggles and sleepy eyes

of perhaps in a lovers promise
always and forever
kissing, hugging, snuggling
perhaps

maybe in a mothers arms
in her will, in her charm
found amoung her asperations
in place of a new found fasination
a babies cry
or maybe writing love, says it all
L-O-V-E
or maybe thats how you write love
mybe just letters with emplied meaning, or all the above
I had a brother that was older than me,
my mother and father took him away from me,
I was twelve and he was nearly twenty-three,
my parent's did not care what they did to me,

My parent's drove him out of their house,
This is because he could not live they way
they wanted him to be,

I was only seven and he was nearly seventeen,
They drove my beloved oldest brother, Larry, away from me.

He was an artist, a poet, and a writer just like me,
what my parent's did to him they did to me,
I just outlived both of them yes indeed, I made it until
I was fifty-six years old indeed.

Now these many years have come and gone,
my dearest brother, Larry, is an angel and
he still writes his celestial songs in the heaven above,
He left this world when he was nearly twenty-three, and
I remember the tears of a brother that was taken from
me.
In Loving remembrance of my eldest brother,
Benjamin L. Wesson
Born December 8, 1944 to August 8, 1967
I will always love you and I will never forget you.
You seem so distant to me
Like a stranger in the wind
I don't even know you
Yet you are already a part of me
You are my older brother
The brother I never knew
But also very close too
I can't wait to meet you someday
Then all my unanswered questions will be answered
But until then you will just be a stranger in the wind
 Sep 2013 Rosalie Walker
Mariah
For once in my life, I am trying to be concerned with my family.
Especially my older brother.
He does nothing with his life.
He is getting into drugs.
He is everything I aspire not to be.

Yet here I am. Trying to help.
Why?
I only get screamed at by my father.
Or quietly shushed by my mother.
Or yelled at by him.

"****. OFF.
YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME.
I HOPE YOU DIE."

I hope you die.

That's pretty strong stuff aimed at me.

A suicidal child.
 Sep 2013 Rosalie Walker
Jjess
Blinding and beautiful-
all senses fail
obscuring ignorance;
let darkness prevail
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