Hush, Hush, Hush
Night was colder than usual eve. But that's the way it is when some one you love is about to die. Hermione stood out on the balcony, a sharp breeze biting her skin. She walked back into the room. The eyes were closed, but the breath was even. She kneeled down and gathered his hand in hers. And whispered soft of things that had happened, choking on the plans for the future. Slowly he turned his head to gaze at her; his skin frightfully pale in the candlelight, for the room was lit with candles. The cold eyes strayed back at her, they still seemed lost. She could no longer hold her tears in and they ran silently down here cheeks.
"Don't cry… I have no regrets, and neither should you."
Her tears still fell and she embraced his weak form and there stayed, "Hush, don't waste your strength."
"Sleep, my dear."
The father of the son stands watching, hidden. Regret. Perhaps this was all for the better, anther chance at a different fate and fortune. Through hate and pride I've dragged him, and much too hard have pushed him. Sleep now my son, rest your heart; I have put you through so much, and to no real end. Softly and silently as wind, "Hush, my son, for I am here now."
Hermione woke slowly in her own bead, my sleep is over... Rising quietly she turned to find an intruder in her room. "Harry!"
She ran over and was gathered into open arms, "It's over now, he's gone."
Weeping tears of sorrow passed from her eyes, sobs escaped her lips. After quite a good cry she looked up into his face. Regret, his eyes were filled with regret. She had none, and they were different. She buried her face and held him tighter; he felt it was his burden to shoulder the pain. He lifted her head and gazed at her, sorrow ruled her frame, but sense yet remained. Softly he kissed her fore head.
"Hush, my friend."
Why has Death visited here? It can visit any year. Shedding its forgetful might, into never ending night.
Authors note: Guess what song I was listening to, ok stop guessing. Weird eh? Can you guess who the unknown character is? Ok, it's hard; you can ask me if you really want to know. I was just tying out a weird stile of writing; it's a lot like poetry.
Night was colder than usual eve. But that's the way it is when some one you love is about to die. Hermione stood out on the balcony, a sharp breeze biting her skin. She walked back into the room. The eyes were closed, but the breath was even. She kneeled down and gathered his hand in hers. And whispered soft of things that had happened, choking on the plans for the future. Slowly he turned his head to gaze at her; his skin frightfully pale in the candlelight, for the room was lit with candles. The cold eyes strayed back at her, they still seemed lost. She could no longer hold her tears in and they ran silently down here cheeks.
"Don't cry… I have no regrets, and neither should you."
Her tears still fell and she embraced his weak form and there stayed, "Hush, don't waste your strength."
"Sleep, my dear."
The father of the son stands watching, hidden. Regret. Perhaps this was all for the better, anther chance at a different fate and fortune. Through hate and pride I've dragged him, and much too hard have pushed him. Sleep now my son, rest your heart; I have put you through so much, and to no real end. Softly and silently as wind, "Hush, my son, for I am here now."
Hermione woke slowly in her own bead, my sleep is over... Rising quietly she turned to find an intruder in her room. "Harry!"
She ran over and was gathered into open arms, "It's over now, he's gone."
Weeping tears of sorrow passed from her eyes, sobs escaped her lips. After quite a good cry she looked up into his face. Regret, his eyes were filled with regret. She had none, and they were different. She buried her face and held him tighter; he felt it was his burden to shoulder the pain. He lifted her head and gazed at her, sorrow ruled her frame, but sense yet remained. Softly he kissed her fore head.
"Hush, my friend."
Why has Death visited here? It can visit any year. Shedding its forgetful might, into never ending night.
Authors note: Guess what song I was listening to, ok stop guessing. Weird eh? Can you guess who the unknown character is? Ok, it's hard; you can ask me if you really want to know. I was just tying out a weird stile of writing; it's a lot like poetry.