My children will live on
when I am in the earth.
When I am dead and gone,
they’ll meet with merry mirth
each Christmas, and they’ll raise
a toast or two to me;
a thought or two they’ll think
of how I used to be.
My children will survive
when I am dust and dreams,
when I’m no more alive
than silent, sleeping streams.
At Easter time they’ll talk
to bring me back to life.
And on a lonely walk
they'll talk about my wife.
Back home, they may recall
our lost and wasted years.
Our photo on the wall
may bring them all to tears!
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 23rd, 2021 09:27
- Comment from author about the poem: inspired by a Christina Rossetti poem...and for life of me, I can't remember which one it was!
- Category: Children
- Views: 63
- Users favorite of this poem: arobot
Offline)
Comments5
Good write Kevin.
thank you.
Heartrending write, Kevin. Good one.
Many thanks
Well written, Kevin. We all hope that our kids will remember us. At least this would give our lives some meaning.
thank you. yeah, would be good to be in their thoughts after we have left this life
Deep within these words is the love of you for your children. It speaks of family life and unspoken bonds of love.
thank you
Very good emotion filled words Kevin.
Andy
Many thanks, Andy
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