Alice, Mary, and June were sitting
under the July sun listening to Eliza tell a story. The story was something
about a dead land, and none of the children really understood the story, nor
cared to listen. It was so hot that they would have rather liked some ice cream
or shaved ice, or something cold that would melt in their mouths and cool them
down. Eliza was oblivious to this, she loved the sun and the heat that came
with it.
The children soon shared a daydream,
they were triplets with similar minds, so it was understandable. They dreamed
they were on a golden stream, sailing down into a cold land. They were leaving
the sun behind, leaving the warmth of the sun and going into the autumnal
season of death. It fit the story that Eliza was telling, with all the death
that was surrounding them. Mary saw bones in the river bed, June saw grave
stones, and Alice saw specters in the water that sung sweetly to her ear.
Mary and June soon woke from their
daydreams, remembering that life was still worth living and that the sun was a
thing of necessity. However, Alice stayed in her little dream, and as she
dreamed, the colder she grew, like water does from Summer to Winter. Her veins
chilled, her lips turned blue. As she grew closer to the specters in the water,
she started to leave the real world all together.
Eliza finished her tale. She shook
the children, waking them from their slumber in the sun.
“Mother, you will never believe what
Alice did!” June cried as she awoke.
“Alice?” Eliza asked, packing their
things back into their picnic basket.
“Our sister,” Mary answered. “She
was right here . . .”
“Oh now, you know Alice died at birth.
Please don’t remind me of such sad things.” Eliza sighed, taking her two
children’s hands into her own and pulling them home.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173163
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