poem #7 (1)

 This poem is a lot more personal to me. It is me recounting the deaths of some family members, but I've written it in the perspective of a child. It is almost like reading a children's fantasy book, which I thought might me an interesting angle to write in.

... 

In a city by the sea, 

there was a castle made of cement and red brick. 

In this castle lived a kind and his wife, 

who despite their age, 

were full of life. 

The queen was always soft spoken, 

and on the occasions where she smiled, 

it made all those long afternoons beguile. 

One evening, I arrived to the castle made of cement and red brick ,

But there were many people at the entrance, 

looking sick. 

On the floor on a wooden setee wrapped in white, 

Lay the queen

who showed no signs of life. 

She was taken away, 

and we children were left questioning; 

where did our queen get taken off to? 

There was a sense of profound sadness that was lingering. 

In our castle, 

there were no answers. 

The atmosphere changed after that day, 

Nobody had much to say. 

The king however, 

played the role of a jester, 

And so we still felt at home, 

in our castle made of cement and red brick. 

Then, the king started to ail, 

he began to appear thin and frail. 

Us kids thought it was no big deal; 

Our kind was invincible, 

But the adults around us began to look pale. 

They told us not the worry, 

But from their expressions, 

I was reminded of the day the Queen had died; 

I had a feeling that the adults had lied.

...