Incidental Mental

Wind blown and flown,
I dance on my own.
I dance with the wind in the end,
Then dance again.
I’m a lifeless leaf, an abandoned sheaf,
Experiencing life to be brief.
There’s no other flower this entire hour
That can resist the need to cower.
These may be words you’ve sometimes heard
Before scrambled with the sword.
But they cut all the same, taking no names,
And never leaving anyone to blame.
So just for awhile I manage to smile,
And pray there is no guile.
Persuaded you’re gentle, I become mental,
And completely incidental.

6-11-2019 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

A Child Dies

A child dies.
What could come to mind to find it was wrong?
Only we can accept the responsibility for this angel of youth.
How can we face ourselves again?
We shouldn’t be able to.
A child lies breathless… lifeless… laughless… and still.
What could you think,
Knowing she can never be awakened?
Nothing could revive her,
Or replace the smile once again.

3-21-1990
Written by Gail Brookshire