For Fathers' Day
Its hands over that sad, sad time
When mortals and angels cry,
And the booming chime, deafening,
Echoing the doctor's prognosis -
Blind, definitely, deaf, probably,
Not much of a future at two weeks,
And in that premature witching hour
We had to decide like gods your stop-watch fate,
Holding your tiny hands before your time was up.
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 432 times
Written on 2009-06-20 at 20:52
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Dead reckoning
The grandfather clock faced the wall,Its hands over that sad, sad time
When mortals and angels cry,
And the booming chime, deafening,
Echoing the doctor's prognosis -
Blind, definitely, deaf, probably,
Not much of a future at two weeks,
And in that premature witching hour
We had to decide like gods your stop-watch fate,
Holding your tiny hands before your time was up.
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 432 times
Written on 2009-06-20 at 20:52
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
liz munro |
|
melanie sue |
