On guard

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A gift

There’s no poetry in my life
without you.
My muse, my light, my soul,
Where have you gone?
One short glorious year
I knew you,
And words came tumbling forth
in joyful song.
But then you left. As quickly
as you came.
And though I’ve begged you –
Speak! Please speak to me.
All I ever hear
is silence.
No-thing but silence … Oh!
Is that your final gift to me?

Mandy Edwards (c) 2016

A child is born

The Christmas-story: a tale handed down,
After centuries of telling, still mystery bound.
Though full of conjecture it fills us with awe,
The little babe, Jesus, born in the straw.
 
Now hope germinates from the tiniest seed,
And for me this story’s not hard to believe.
For truth is found in the strangest of places,
And love always shines from the tiniest faces.
 
Mandy Edwards © 2016
(revised)