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My irrational fear
The arch of moonlight streams
across the cloaked path.
Ivy growing, twisting, twirling
a wisp of fear.
Traitorous gasps of icy breath,
puffs into the chilled air.
A cloak slides on the uneven stones
as I watch hidden, from the dusty window.
Irrational fear, they all dare say,
a hand trails over the arched stone,
fingers lingering.
They turn to my hidden alcove,
it turns, she turns,
smiling up, smiling to me, but who?
The hood falls back leaving only...
My irrational fear behind.

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This piece is about a child's fear, that is often considered irrational, death.