A.B. Jakobsen

Fatherly care

What be that which rumbles at my door?

Whatever it be take me away

Fore that comes which I most deplore

Well surely a wistful boy can dream

In moments ere the peace me betray 

 

Torn agape in a violent burst

The imposing shape stood at my door

Bearing enmity in its glare

And no one with which my fear to share

This ardour is my fatherly care 

 

This phantom wafts before my eyes

For what it haunts me, I do not know

But in nights peace I awake in shock

As its shadow be my greatest woe 

And this stress my frail being will outgrow…

 

June 9th - 2023