A few years agowhen my son was younger
and I less wise
a lesson she painted
as if fingers in my mind
rearranging my neurons
in a way
I want to say
changed more
than just
my day
She was young
white blouse cotton
and tight as,
as the smile I could
not avoid;
her hair short
glimmering, shimmering black
like a lake
midnight
moonlit
We walked in
my son and I
he with his
me with mine
and the sight before us
that Saturday morn
was as sights are
each upon
Fumble he did
to set up his stand
music unfolded
by those little hands
I watch the two
in fear I felt
of his recital
and
of my own
heart thumping
vital
With each mistake
his nervous hands made
her voice calmed
and soothed
his fragile nerves
my esteem grew
of what was
and my dreams bloomed
of what never would
She was young
or so my eye observed
and she smiled the smile
of youth yet wise
with each commendation
a wisdom not lost
in the wash of time
a memory so strong
she lives in rhyme
a girl I once knew
who touched two hearts
that much is true
I think she knew
we knew not her name
but all the same
she twirled our world
he and I
father and son
touched I think
by wings of heaven
and
a diamond wink
4 comments:
Been there, too, but with a guy, not a chick. Sometimes one should simply admire... enjoy... remember...
Yeah, well, this poem was stillborn. Been that kinda day.
This one is lighter than many of your others. It's good, so consider lightening up. =)
I love the melody of this, very Dr Seuss, meant complimentary though I have a feeling there is a chance you might not see it as such given your words on the poem. This poem, at the time of reading which was very near the poem that spoke of
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illuminates the mark and meaning that one can leave upon another, sometimes unknowingly, sometimes in ways that could not be imagined, through the smallest of actions at times, a smile, a word of kindness, particular days, particular times, for particular reasons, can mean the world in the moment and be remembered as such.
I love the part that describes her
She was young
white blouse cotton
and tight as,
as the smile I could
not avoid;
her hair short
glimmering, shimmering black
like a lake
midnight
moonlit
And there is something about the phrase
We walked in
my son and I that sounds so proud, so loving, for it is not written as clarification, whom was walking we already knew, and thus the tone is not one of fact, but of attachment.
Title is wonderfully evocative, and it finds stage in those last lines, so very lovely.
he and I
father and son
touched I think
by wings of heaven
and
a diamond wink
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