Empty Poem

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A small boy skips merrily through an open field, grasping a small rag doll in his tiny hands. He was careful not to trample over any of the flowers and smiled to himself as he passed and saw his reflection in the small, clear pool of water. Smiling shyly at the strange face, which smiled back at him. The boy's cheeks were a light shade of pink from the bitter cold air, gripping his thin, worn jacket tight around his frail body. He examined the reflection that stared back at him with a look of wonderment and awe. The boy looked at his mouth, his small, thin lips had turned a ghostly shade of blue from the cold, his nose, thin, small and dainty with a myriad of freckles covering his forehead and cheeks. His pale skin dappled in the
He turned his face sharply. Looking back at the puddle where his reflection once stood. Lying there in a small ditch was his rag doll, he wanted to leave, to go home, fall asleep, and forget this ever happened. But he couldn't. Not now. The boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him until he reached the puddle where his rag doll lay. Picking her up, he brushed the mud off her dainty dress, his felt around the dolls neck. It was bare. A sudden feeling of panic overwhelmed him. He scrabbled furiously in the mud, searching desperately for the precious locket his mother had given him. The dirt got under the boy's fingernails, in his shoes, his hair, his face and into his skin. He caught a glimpse of his reflection. A single tear rolled down his cheek, stopping just below his chin, clinging on before falling to the ground. The boy sat still, slowly breathing in the fresh air, taking each breath as it came: relishing it, savouring it, just being. He looked into the vast landscape that was mapped out before him. A place he knew so well, a desolate and lonely place with a peculiar sense of tranquillity. It was almost sunrise, but still the boy sat there as time dragged on and