Kirsten my "waiter" son.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Poems from the heart


In the stillness of the night
A whimper breaks out soft
The alert ear listens
And rushes to comfort

A glass falls; the cut is deep
A wail is all it takes
For that earnest soul
To hasten and soothe.

The night is long; the lesson drags
A yawn is stifled
That watchful eye has seen
The brewing mug is ready.

The day has come to bid goodbye
To greet another’s world
Those eyes once filled with love
Now fill with un-staved sorrow.

The tree grows; a gurgling smile
And soon there are fears
A patient hand, a loving hand
Arrives to cope with all.

A head grown white, shoulders drooping
Yet she is the strongest
Her ways are loving solace
She is, yes, a Mother.


A sparrow comes everyday
And says to me:
“It’s lovely to be free.”

I watched her as she built her nest
Way up in the tall neem tree
Her lover hunted for twigs
Soon their home was ready.

I saw in it eggs it held,
White and small and pretty
Captive she was for many days
‘Hatching’ was what she called it

Soon the little ones peeked out
Their tiny bodies were hungry
The duo toiled day and night
To feed their little future.

But then they flew away, away
She lost them: now she’s all alone.
I ask her why she bothered
That’s when she says to me:
“It’s lovely to be free.”

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