The Secret Truth of the Forest.

A story their father told them

A story of prophecy and illusion

A story of Iroko, Mahogany and the Oak

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​A COFFIN ABOVE THE SOIL.

Sometimes I stay up till midnight for the sun,

Because maybe the sun sits in the pocket of night,

And if one night I were reluctant one bit,

Mayhap Jack Dawkins’ scalded palms still flicker in my memory.

Hope grows in the soul of a child