Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.98

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	Why our son, why? Every morning the same dark chorus wakes me And I wonder how I am still alive. "Balance the forces of life and death" Is the Kleinian recipe for survival. "It is God’s will, life is meant to test us" My Christian heritage tells me. "Life is a vale of soul making" Keats reminds us. Insistently the morning traffic hums As I sip my tea, list calls to make, Sigh in frustration at unread books. For solace I look at cards of Haworth Moorland vistas of unending paths Cloudscapes only a Constable could paint High Withens in a gale, the sloping village street. How? When? Why? ‘The truth’ - if such an entity exists - Is that I want to run away.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required