SORROW, Silver 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, so full of joyous play,
loved your curly hair, the sturdy limbs
so quick your favorite oak to climb;
better times there never were, nor gladder days,

that 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.

Yet still I marvel at the gallant spirit in you,
understand the battle in those dimming eyes
and guess the nameless sorrow, the solitude,
Youth's body wasted frail his soul to Heaven rise.

By Psyche

Dedicated to my son Patrick who died of Lou Gehrig's Disease (Motor Neurone Disease) in his twenties, six years ago, August 24th., 1998.
"Always present in my heart, always loved."

Copyright 2004, Buenos Aires, Argentina.