⋅ 24 February 2012

Tools of Her Trade

Nightly she stands by the shore
Face upturned to the dark starless sky
As tears of pain roll freely from her eyes
In her hands a net of silver
Made of the finest diamond dust
Forged in fire, pain and lust
She hears their vocies whisper
As dark waters lap at the shore
Some for mercy
Others whimpering in pain
Begging to live once more
Slowly she throws her net
Pulling lost souls from the waters
Close to her side
Gently gathering them around her
She handles each soul
As her tears
And divides them into three piles
Never again

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  • Those three haunting words attend many love affairs. This is delightful, contemplative, and is a delightful read! Nice work!24 Feb 2012 by

  • You have had a stellar debut on PF, Duckie.25 Feb 2012 by

  • Hi Duckie, wow really like this poem - as one of the other comments says it truely is haunting, but haunting in a kinda soft, delicate and beautiful way. It paints a lovely, eerie picture that I'm sure stays with the reader long after the poem is over. Loved it, gonna read some of your others now :o)31 Mar 2012 by

  • Wonderful poetry very delightful to read18 Mar 2013 by

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