Margaret Foster Poet Sonnet

Brothers

Brothers


We two were brothers, nine and ten
Climbed heather hills without a care
We chased the burn and roamed the glen
Grew berry brown and drunk on air

We fished the Lynn when trout were high
Our rods of willow branch and string
Where wild hawks hovered in the sky 
And fields bedecked with flowers of spring

Fond thoughts of then flood in my mind
To pierce my heart and fill my brain
I wish that he was here in kind
To roam these wooded hills again

But Donald died in lands far flung
And I recall when we were young

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Andrea Dietrich March 24, 2010 at 6:58 AM soup mail

Skat A March 22, 2010 at 7:44 AM Enjoyed the read..I find the poem a bit sad 4 the brothers loss..A very good write.

Audrey Haick March 21, 2010 at 10:48 PM As usual, dear Maggie, This is excellent but very sad.. (glad you like me calling you, "Maggie" I love your name!.. My paternal grandmama was called "Maggie" so it always brings back pleasant memories. Thanks for reading mine and leaving that kind comment for me....Love, Audrey

Abe Lopez March 21, 2010 at 8:38 PM there is a bond in this write that runs deep..... thanks for sharing your heart!

Doris Culverhouse March 21, 2010 at 6:52 PM sad-but nice tribute

Carrie Richards March 21, 2010 at 7:35 AM A beautiful sonnet of childhood, love, happiness and tragedy... a wonderful story, Margaret, and wonderful poem. Love, Carrie

Andrea Dietrich March 20, 2010 at 9:17 PM A nice little sonnet from you, Margaret. WEll metered as always and intersting how you put yourself in the shoes of a little boy! WEll, I am going off here now. See ya later! andrea