Details |
Megan Mcmanus Poem
The water of the firth
Glitters; glinting, clean.
Messenger of joy and mirth,
Yet tyrant,
cruel.
An ideal place to fish
for a young boy and his friend.
They are seven years old - grinning wide,
their rods well-tended.
But, what’s that? Some money
has dropped into the froth:
“Fear not lads, I’ll be two ticks!”
says dad, his boots still on.
That day the sea played tyrant.
Life was lost beneath the waves.
The boy’s grins appeared no longer:
his dad could not be saved.
Silent sorrow grew within him,
and pervaded every joy.
He was no longer
the same grinning little boy.
Days of future struggles
lay before his gaze.
He could not know that after long,
clouds do dissipate.
True enough the shadows,
gave way to blazing lights.
“The winter now is over”,
he said. His grin was bright.
Copyright © Megan Mcmanus | Year Posted 2016
|