Poemetry: A Song for my Daughter

Beneath the maple trees and snow-flecked leaves,

buried by spade and shovel, my fledgling girl,

with down and tremors wreathed,

was ready dressed in onyx and pearl.

So I will sing a song for my daughter,

a song for the daughter I could not save,

a lyric and melody that I taught her,

 and sing her into her grave.

Too soon branched, she fled the nest,

from father’s arms and mother’s breast,

shaking sick then suddenly still,

once to air by wing, now to rest,

resting within Winter’s quill.

So I will sing a song for my daughter,

a song for the daughter I could not save,

a lyric and melody that I taught her,

 and sing her into her grave.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s