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Ottar Apr 2016
She kills things.

"Roses are red, the violets are dead.”
She stopped, looked at her toes as she spoke.
Moving at full speed, Her hair flowed from her head .
The door suddenly ****** open, against the vase, which She broke.

Quickly, running, fast up the steps, to find Her granddad

She knew she was is in trouble, forgetting her grandparents warning.
Where the violets had been, there was a shimmering, growing lake.
She saw the garden, in full sun, that she watered that morning.
Bored, across the yard She skipped to count, how many would it take?

Surely done, it was playtime, strawberry stained lips, and no one around.

They left Her there to tidy up, shut off the water, and pick strawberries.
They put Her to work in the flower garden full of colour, and a few bees.
Grandpa said to Grandma, “that girl has a lot of cheek."
She said,"Roses have thorns, violets are weak”

She was the garden tempest.
Backwards story leads to poetry.
I may have missed this by a long ways, but I am glad I am no where near this spooky child.
xoK May 2014
(A friend once told me)
That the stars in the cosmos
Must have been aligned when the two of us came newly into this world.
The astrology up in the atmosphere
On the 28th of April
Saw you coming
And three years later
On the very same day
It said, We must make her a match.
Someone to fill the in-betweens of her fingers
And the empty spaces on the inside,
To brighten up her eyes
And the shine of her smile.
They won't find each other right away
But the magnetic pull of the universe
Will bring them together
Without a doubt.
And I was crafted from stardust and a celestial glow
And beamed down to earth
Fated to wander its surface
Until you came to stand in my path
And point me in a new direction
Hand safe in hand
And heart tethered to heart.
LDR life. We have the same birthday.

— The End —