David Bose Poet Rhyme

A Daughter's Lesson

Dark, silent bedroom,
Your childhood’s past:
Mementos and books
Seem all that now last.

Your bed rests here empty,
The desk there is silent—
They taunt me to ponder
Where happy years went;

Look … tarnished gold trophies
And clothes out of date,
Nagging reminders
Of life growing late.

Oh, frail infant once,
You girl I taught read,
Why’d I fail seeing
Where growing would lead?

Sure, to visit you’ll travel,
Brief sojourns—no more—
Please, comprehend some day
Why tears stream and pour.

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Ilene Bauer January 17, 2017 at 1:17 PM oh, so true, david! you've captured this feeling very beautifully here. i'm reliving things a bit now with grandchildren, which takes away much of that sting... David Bose January 17, 2017 at 1:27 PM Thanks, Ilene. She just drove back to college and, walking past her room, this started in me. Wonderful to help them grow yet sad they grow up. Thanks again.