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Rowan Ash Mar 2019
On the bank of a river
A weeping willow sags down,
Crying quietly into
The shallow water.
I watch, as the sun rises,
And slowly dries the tears.
    But yet;
I see a single tear slowly
Meander its way down a
Lone branch, dropping gently
Down.
A ripple forms, a never-ending
Circle of gentle waves and
Unbroken promises.
And I watch silently,
Undisturbing,
Understanding,
As they reach out to forever.
  Aug 2015 Rowan Ash
Brittany
Whistling through your teeth
What a nice body I have? What a beautiful face I have?
Wolves are always hunting but
I'm not 11, 16, 17 anymore
I'm not little red riding hood and
I will draw blood before you
Don't call me anything you wouldn't want to hear your mother called
Private playground
Trespassers shot on sight
Animals like you are hunted by girls - no
by women like me
My conviction rate is 100 percent these days
Wolf, one day you'll prey on the wrong princess
You can't huff and puff
Blow down a castle
Animals like you rot in cages
(B.N)
Rowan Ash Aug 2015
My lungs are filled with ash
      I exhale smoke and impurities
They embed themselves in my words
      until they too are as smoky and tainted
            as my insides.
Rowan Ash Jul 2015
You used to sit here, on this very step.
Smoking a pack a day and hiding away
In a beautiful house too big for just one.
Lips stained red from wine
And life clouded black from grief.
A small light peeked through the clouds,
But it was quickly swallowed up,
Just like everything else.
Everything started to lose its colour,
Just like you.
Paper skin, glass bones, and cobweb hairs.
But you kept smiling, even through it all.
“Don’t worry,” you said.
“I’m gettin’ through it, one day at a time.”

You switched to electronic cigarettes and juice.
Paper became marble, bones to steel, hair to silk.
The light came back, and each day the black clouds
Turned more to white.
You fell asleep; happy and content for a change.
But you never woke up.

I sit on the step now, by myself.
The familiar smell of smoke is slowly fading,
And I can’t seem to remember the colour of your eyes,
Or the pallor of your skin.
But I do remember the raspy voice and genuine smiles
As you tell me
“Keep on goin’, kiddo, ‘cause it gets better. I’ll always be there for you.”
In memory of my Aunt Nancy, who died this past May.
RIP, love always.
  Jun 2015 Rowan Ash
niamh
A life without love
Is like a night sky without the stars.
It's still there,
Just not quite as beautiful
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