by 2725dlEnnis, Clare, Clare, Ireland
Sep 2013 754 Views 7 comments
My Dearest Son.
My dearest Son,
Even though I may not bare child again.
Do not grieve for the loss of Thy Brother.
He sings and plays with Angels,
On white feathered wings.
Whilst silver gray tears platter Thy cheeks,
You have this world to play with, "he says".
You will grow and make new Brothers,
In your holdings.
You shall, be ful-filled.
You will travell safely on your life journey.
Till you two meet again,
At your cross roads end.
I say.
Even though I may not bare child again.
Do not grieve for the loss of Thy Brother.
He sings and plays with Angels,
On white feathered wings.
Whilst silver gray tears platter Thy cheeks,
You have this world to play with, "he says".
You will grow and make new Brothers,
In your holdings.
You shall, be ful-filled.
You will travell safely on your life journey.
Till you two meet again,
At your cross roads end.
I say.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2013
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Comments (7)
I know this feeling well...
Here's a very BIG
I loved the poem so beautiful
Thank you for sharing your thoughts
Martina xxx
We all suffer loss...that's life
Nice work!
Robert
Till you two meet again,
At your cross roads end.
I say.
So heartbreaking to read, God bless.
ty for sharing this beauty with us Liz
you're missed around here and i hope we see you soon