promise

when
wriggly worms are done
with you
i shall await 
sweet scent of blooms
that should some day
sprout and mark
this very spot
in which 
you last
reclined
that is, 
if i don't 
follow
after you

soon

 

 

`

Fourteen days until your birthday, but you are no longer here. You have left us 10 weeks ago, Dad. All the special days are now another farewell.

galateusrkaycrypticbardexcalibardarqiosarkayyearquiouskesner

◄ crocus buds

considered exchanges ►

Comments

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Frederick Kesner

Thu 9th Jun 2022 23:01

Thanks for dropping a line or two in the comment box. You are much appreciated: keith, John, Stephen. The discomfort makes for the poetic 'wrestling,' keith. May not make it easier or less painful but we can, as we say, "go down with a fight;" and "not go gently into the night." And so all the 'first times without them' has begun. Cheers. /Frederick.

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 9th Jun 2022 21:49

Very poignant, Frederick.

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John Botterill

Thu 9th Jun 2022 18:33

A sad poem, Frederick. Very touching.

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keith jeffries

Thu 9th Jun 2022 09:31

It will come to us all. A poem of truth which I fear people these days are not comfortable with.
Thank you for this
Keith

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