Down, A Poem for Ai Enma
A/N: I apologise for the spacing in this. It hasn't worked to my liking due to the site's f-ed up formatting. I've tried to use the ruler to fix this.
A small wooden boat,
A pale hand at the helm;
I see, Miss, you've not changed.
The murky Styx runs below
And I feel as though we've slowed.
The tiller moves all on its own
As you come to sit quite close.
I fail at first to notice you,
Occupied as I am, silent as you are.
Black hair on black silk,
The slight rustling drawing me alert.
I ask you, "Has it been so long?"
And you slowly nod your head.
Did I sense a hint of pity there?
In your eyes, amidst the red?
"I suppose it has," I answer
And receive again your silent stare.
The gate now towers above;
Oddly I feel no fear.
It strikes me as odd you'd comfort me,
But it only just struck me now,
That is what you are doing
The only way you know how.
We reach the end,
The ride has stopped,
You reach out to help me stand,
And you'll never know the comfort you've done
For this old man.
I know your heart's not in this – Hell Girl don't you fear;
I'll never tell a soul in Hell you shed a single tear.