Wednesday 5 November 2008

Poetry Chapbook 05

Widower’s Daughter

She counts the stones that make the wall –
one, two, three no need to count at all
for in the end she knows what she will find
dark corners where even rats are blind
where cobwebs hang like rigging on a ship
just waiting for a little girl to slip --
no fear of such happenings today
she’s brought her box of bones and wants to play.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Okay. I take back my earlier comment. This one is now my favourite. :)

Rachel Green said...

Thank you :)

spacedlaw said...

Both lovely and creepy!