The Bear

November 23, 2009
By C.J. Bateman BRONZE, Moultrie, Georgia
C.J. Bateman BRONZE, Moultrie, Georgia
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I looked upon the burrow near
And from within came something queer
An older bear with dusty eyes
Whose feet seemed aged with God's demise
The bear was close, I smelled his musk
The bear I feared was there for trust
But this musk I could not stand
Like burning weeds in flow and bend
The bear looked up, upon my face
And gave a look of grave disgrace
This look he gave me of certain hate
Was one my heart couldn't take
I ran, I flew, I sprinted quick
I fell, I cried, my breathing was thick
The bear was gone, no more pitch black fur
And I lay on the ground and stir
I wait
And listen
The silence sustained
The great bear never seen again

The author's comments:
Up until my 7th Christmas, my father was a large part in my life. After the divorce of my parents, his calls became very seldom. This has become an ever present factor in my life and needs to be expressed in some fashion.

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