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Simon the rock

Short story By: caecus luna
Poetry


Sleep my dearest children
Til morning does the sun rise
Think about wonderful things
Before the twinkling moon dies
About the island of rejected toys
And be thankful for legal dreams
And spider princes hear what they say
For just apperance is nothing what it seems
Forget about the greed monsters
Or the ones that hide under your bed
Only think of nice little things
To occupy your head


Submitted:Mar 25, 2013    Reads: 6    Comments: 2    Likes: 0   


this is simon the rock his head made of granite and his body of slate and his eyes small pits of sod left in the dirt, the rain, and sun he gave off the smell of cod Though days of the worst no sun in the sky simon would stare and sit a hint of a smile stretched ear to ear. Sorrow? Not even a bit he could see the other children in the school nearby as he closed his eyes to dream of being with them or playing with them perhaps be skipped down the stream as the day turned to night and the smell of rain grew, simon watched and waited Something was going to happen, he knew, he highly anticipated a heavy wind blew, the trees shook but simon didn't give it a glance Was this the time to fulfill his dream? Maybe this was his chance With a pull and a twist he rolled onto the road his smile dotted with creases But as a car drove by and crushed him up he was nothing more than a few pieces Now this is simon the rock His head was of granite his body once black and greyish slate And his small pit eyes had but one small tear to tell his lonely fate




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