The Wooden Cradle
"The Wooden Cradle"
a white wooden empty cradle, I wait in the nursery room
for the smell of baby fragrance to illuminate sleeping bloom
years have escalated, still sounds of silence hurt my ears
for all I hear are tender sobs from a Mother's broken tears.
I felt a distant heartbeat once, but it has ceased to linger
my warmth caressed a dying soul who touched my slats with finger
his breath was labored; his life short, but I held his heart close
now haunting memories exist as I cuddle his sweet ghost.
my frame sits in a sunny place, outside, I see a tree
swaying in the balmy breeze where a swing should be
instead, I cry, so silently, recall a tiny form
I embraced in a moment in time and kept him safe and warm.
if these walls within this room could whisper words of sorrow
sheer pain would cause tremendous tears to fashion sad tomorrows
I sympathize with woeful walls whose treasure no longer looms
but no-one understands my loss inside the nursery room.
*For Frank H.'s PERSONIFICATION Contest.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
