The Call

(That day in school, Dalorina’s poems made me cry. This is to honour her, and her love for poetry.)

The call that once lightened her up,
Like spurns of magic thread,
Had the power to heal,
Had the power to make her smile,
The call from wonderland,
The answer to her prayers.

And when one day the calls stopped,
Her time ceased to pass;
She stopped living, started dreaming,
Of the days that lay ahead,
Will she able to walk all alone?
Can she forget the call?

Was it too much to ask for?
Was a call so strong for real?
Did it bear the power to heal,
Or did it bruise you more?
A call it was, after all,
A plain, simple call,
But who knew at the ends of a call,
Wept two bruised hearts.


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