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Lysbeth Anne Macneil


Barrie, ON, CA

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My Porch


Lysbeth Anne Macneil

I hurried out my front door
Escaping the coldness and pain
I wanted to sit on my porch
In a swinging seat, that soothed me
And reminded me of my mother
Rocking me as a child.
I looked ahead at the view before me
The setting sun of burnished gold
That had turned the sky to an amythest hue,
And the lake below to a million
Saphires, sparkling in the last rays of sunlight.
The grass, beyond, was as
Brilliant emeralds, like the kind
My grandmother wore.
She liked the colour green
It went with her red hair
Not I; I prefer blues and pinks,
I always have; funny how
Colours can seem like a person
After awhile.
Now, suddenly before me reality
Gave me a start, The shutters
Over my eyes slowly opened
And there in front of me
The scenery quickly changed
The lake became the street again
Lined with cars and houses.
A cacaphony of noises errupted
Children playing, dogs barking, people talking.
I slowly got up and went back
Through my front door, to the
Coldness, the reality of my life.

You Weren't There


Lysbeth Anne Macneil

How many times have I run to greet you
I've put my arms around you
And you weren't there.
I've kissed your cheek in a sweet hello
I open my eyes to see you
And you weren't there.
How many times have we
Strolled upon the sand
Beside the vast seashore?
I turned to grasp your hand in mine
And you were gone once more.
I spread my arms to embrace the view
Laughingly, I looked back to you
And you weren't there.