Columbine
A brightly painted doll
Stirs, jerks out of sleep.
I watch her - lovely Columbine,
What secrets does she keep?
What have those blue crystal eyes
Witnessed in these halls?
Did her mechanical song and dance
Interrupt some dying calls?
Has she seen our crimes and sins
Enacted just for her?
I wonder if she thinks of us -
Is there a reason she should stir?
My beautiful little Columbine,
I wish you were alive.
For I adore and love you, Columbine -
Into a sea of love we'll dive.
Copyright © Catriona Elizabeth Mowat 2006
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.