Sometimes we can't have what we want.
I have set aside a small room
That faces the powerful sun,
And decorated it with familial fun,
Images from nursery rhymes
And protective wind chimes,
Hanging from the ceiling
But I have a feeling
That you won't come here,
Nay, I have a real fear
That you'll die before
I open the bedroom door,
And so it came to pass
That a lover and his lass
Lost a love-child, love-child,
Meek and mild, meek and mild,
And the rhymes were all about falling down,
The chimes as silent as a ghost town.
Twenty-seven years on
And the room has gone,
But the hurt maintains
For the grave remains.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 573 times
Written on 2006-09-19 at 22:26
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In memory of a child who didn't make it
For you who crouches in the womb,I have set aside a small room
That faces the powerful sun,
And decorated it with familial fun,
Images from nursery rhymes
And protective wind chimes,
Hanging from the ceiling
But I have a feeling
That you won't come here,
Nay, I have a real fear
That you'll die before
I open the bedroom door,
And so it came to pass
That a lover and his lass
Lost a love-child, love-child,
Meek and mild, meek and mild,
And the rhymes were all about falling down,
The chimes as silent as a ghost town.
Twenty-seven years on
And the room has gone,
But the hurt maintains
For the grave remains.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 573 times
Written on 2006-09-19 at 22:26
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
Judy T Lloyd |
