Sorrow, Sonnet (working on it) Options

[Psyche]

Sorrow

When you were yet a child, so dear to me,
tummy flat upon the rug, finger on a book
to read the lines, your lips a babbling brook,
my heart went out to you, my busy bumble-bee.

I loved those hours, filled with joyous play,
loved your curly hair and sturdy limbs
so quick your favorite branch to climb.
There were no better times or happier days

and now I sit beside your arms upon the quilt,
so motionless, their lifeline out of symmetry,
and cannot grasp the ingrate chronology,
must hide my face awhile, with tears of guilt.

I marvel at the gallant spirit in you,
understand the battle in those dimming eyes
and guess your nameless sorrow, the solitude,
youth’s body wasted frail your soul to heaven rise.