Now, now, there'll be none o that kind of thing during the readings. I appreciate the sentiment as much as the next girl, but if ya do it during the poetry sessions, Marley and one of his other burly cohorts'll drag ya out the door.
Ahem....
Okay, I have one more poem fer ye; it be called Falling.
Falling
I may crash
to the ground,
or learn to open
my arms
is flying a choice
or a gift,
and once taken
can it be undone,
or forever will I be torn
between earth and sky,
valleys and mountains,
water and air
or touching ground
may I soar again
to become
a winged thing
a child
with dirt
on my feathers
:::clapping a bit louder, no cat calls:::
:::Faer steps back from the mic, curtseys prettily; steps back to mic:::
An' I thank ye all fer that fine reception. An' I will be serving after I leave the stage, so if ye need any drink or victuals, just raise up yer hand. One o' us will git ta yer table.
:::walks down steps, heads towards the first table where a hand is raised:::
