Shania K. Younce
Aback, aback the child was.
For stuff of powdery white is falling from the sky.
For the air became chilled.
Icicles did slowly form.
In the reflection of gradualy freezing water stared the boy.
In the reflection of his eyes tears did still in mid-flow.
The grass did not wave in the cold wind.
Oh, pain there was in the boy.
For a child he is.
For the pain did still.
A lady of many years did come.
For she looked old and young.
For she said, 'I did hear you call and I did take your hand.'
'Why, oh great lady with silver moon hair and pale complexion? '
'Why, I my fair child boy you are mine, 'said the lady.
'You are mine and if you call I shall apear.'said the lady.
'I am aback with desire and should like to be all yours as I am a child boy.'said the child.
So, they lived sweetly in ample delight.
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Comments about this poem ('Aback' by Shania K. Younce )
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