For a fledgling poet
not 7 years lived
these words may sound obscure
Can I convey the anxiety
bound to the ghost
of the lost Lenore?
Our eyes gather and
swell with tears
as with Lord Byron we die
Then Maya bestows
our defiant creed,
"I rise, I rise, I rise!"
More precious than
the air I breathe are
these moments we two share
Where we quietly absorb
the depths and heights
formed with passion and care
I love you more
than I love my life,
your spirit enlivens me
May this goodness
shared through poem and prose
be ours eternally.
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Author:
PACollin (
Offline) - Published: October 20th, 2017 14:20
- Comment from author about the poem: The poetry readings held with my daughter are rapidly becoming my favorite part of each week.
- Category: Family
- Views: 50
Offline)
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