Below is the poem entitled Bitter Sweet which was written by poet
Marschall. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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You never even saw him
as you lay soaking up the sun
tiptoeing with that bucket.
Six years old and out for fun.
The look of shock in your eyes
as the water broke your sleep
I laughed so much; sides ached
as from my eyes tears did weep.
You chased him round the garden
mock anger in your strides.
Always allowing him to escape,
giving him time to hide,
or at his birthday party
you dressed up like a clown.
All the other kids declared
"You're the bestest in the town"
Fake foam custard pies,
you faced them all the day,
never once did you cry "no more!"
"Bring it on", is all you'd say.
Rewinding all those memories
a playback to yesterdays
I live the future in the past
My present in disarray.
I remember it was a Winters day,
the snow had come early this year.
You had promised to go sledging,
our sons eyes shone with such revere.
I felt a little anxious
protectiveness, a lump in my throat
you held my hand with confidence,
your voice held that inspiring note.
"His time has come to learn to fly,
to take on the world outside.
You have taught him just and well,
now his instincts must be his guide."
I watched you both disappear,
into the white blanket, feathering down,
A nervous smile painted my lips
trying to wipe away this worried frown.
All day I kept myself busy
watching the time; so slow.
As night approached with shadows
I paced the floor, to and fro.
The knock came from nowhere,
startling my captured thoughts.
My mind racing, fractured ideas,
calm, hysteria, battled and fought.
two uniforms greeted my open door
eyes looking everywhere but at me
they had bad news. Two people had died.
The car left the road, wrapped round a tree.
My husband, my son, taken away
leaving me alone in my grief.
The spectre of death had paid us a call
stolen my family, a heartless thief.
Videotape memories don't replace whats real.
The tears, the laughter, all gone.
This house, no longer a welcome home.
My continuing life somehow just wrong.
As I slip into sleeping pill death
I hope the stories are true
that as I reach the doorway to heaven
there waiting will be my son and you.