All the house was silent
Night-light burning on the mantelpiece
Off to sleep.
Long days in the garden
Rides in the wheelbarrow.
Long June evenings
The bracken swayed gently
The sun sank lower.
Thicket of raspberry canes growing tall
Tropical jungle in long sunlit hours
Fairy huts in the flowerbed.
Quiet evenings in the wood
A tear fell to the ground
And a flower grew.
A mysterious flower
Slender green leaves the colour of emeralds
Blossom like a golden cup.
The moon had risen
The forest was beautiful, fronds like frosted silver
Tree-trunks wild danced with their shadows.
Velvet grass dancing, the fairy kissed him
Springing jumping whirling
He was real at last.
Alison Jean Hankinson.
This is for d”verse MTB.
I ought to add this is a form called erasure or blackout.
The text was too large to put the whole as a picture….see if you can spot where it came from….The other image might help a tiny bit….it is Emily’s…shh….