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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required __________________________ This elegy set in a trimester anapaest breaks the pattern at times when the memories filled with emotion rush. The last line of the quatrain is deliberately kept a foot shorter. _______________________ Thou wert frail, frailer still was thy fate, And had reasons to feel a bit riled, Thy sad eyes must have looked out for me, O my ill-fated child. For I failed, be there to welcome thee, Thou had too little time left to wait, To be held in a father’s fond arms, And left me rue my fate. How it hurts not to hold thee to heart, Nor welcome thee into my small world, Let me offer this grief of a rose— A bit frail, feeble, curled. Now amidst a dark pile of sad thoughts In a time-warped fast vanishing wave, I am left to reflect how thy soul Must have felt, till my grave. Ye had come to our life long ago, A bit wan, pallid infant so pale, Even then cruel fate served a punch, A gust turned to a gale! As I hold out to thee this frail rose, I do wonder wide-eyed, a bit wild, Can a page turn in time to feel good? No, my guilt’s piled my child. To confess and admit to my guilt, In my plight, having failed a dad’s due, Let me wish thy new life rosy pink, The wretched me whilst rue. ________________________________________ Musings |03.05.2024| child, daughter, missing you, remember, rose, Elegy
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