Home

As she marched towards,

The edge of the world,

A blinding light hid her face;

She breathed in a heavy breath

And took a look around the place.

 

The air was still,

The grass was green,

The apples falling from the tree;

She picked one up and sunk her teeth

And felt glorious and free.

 

She was home.

Or almost home.

It seemed familiar to her;

The same old house at the end of the road,

The same old kitchen floor.

 

But something was awry,

She thought,

As she took a closer look;

She searched the place far and wide,

Into every cranny and nook.

 

Did she know,

About this place,

Before she ran away?

Did she know about the gate,

That had led her mind astray?

 

Did she know,

The apple she ate,

That had fallen from the tree

Would send her back to her mortal world,

And what a pity it would be?

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4 thoughts on “Red Herring

  1. Ok. Somehow, I can totally relate to this. It makes me think about things I haven’t thought about for a while. And i love the Paragraph construction. 🙂

  2. Remember we once spoke about what poetry is supposed to do to a person, how it is supposed to invoke certain thoughts, feelings, emotions, ideas in a person and yet has its own distinct rhythm. This poem does just that! Good one.

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