A Hundred Times a Day
I find you in the place of tears baby,
oh, you never saw the azure sky above;
have been beneath the soil all these years,
but I have spoken to you a hundred times a day.
Nothing is engraved bay,
no name, no date;
I am sorry my little one,
I was so very young myself.
Your father faded from my life- the reality,
of a girl who would have his child;
and then you were born and quickly gone,
my parents told me you were adopted.
They thought to protect,
no name, no date at all;
and for all these years,
I have searched for you.
I spoke to you every day my little son,
dreaming of what could have been;
I contemplated a life with my own little boy,
yes, a hundred times a day without words.
Now, it is time for me,
to honor your name and date;
to engrave it in the stone,
it is time to correct the wrong.
(and now my search for you . . . is over)
_______________________
May 1, 2015
Poetry/Verse/A Hundred Times a Day
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1164-777-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the Standard Contest, VERSE A FAVOURED THEME
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment