CAPTURE.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A stolen child, taken in the dead of the night.

Submitted: March 01, 2012

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Submitted: March 01, 2012

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When a child, small and frail,

Unto his mother’s eyes did hail,

Sounds of fear caught within

A throat that sayeth his every whim.

Against a panel of warm wood

The child’s father did there stood,

A glass of wine in hand upraised

As to the ancient god he praised.

And all that night the dark kept bay,

Until greeted by light of day.

Pillows strewn across his room,

The hushed sound of fallen broom.

The child’s captor, cloaked in night

Ignore the pleas of child’s fright.

Swept into husband’s arms she cries

Hushed sobs till tears he dries

The losing of her only son,

To that monstrous and evil one.

He swears revenge ‘pon captor’s soul

In dead of night they’ll take their toll.


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