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Ah Spring, that time of the year,
When the greyness of Winter will disappear.
Barren ground, covered with the shredded bark
From last years, old gardening chore,
Is spotty and I need to restore.
The bulbs, planted this past Fall
Are growing and soon, they will all
Burst forth beautifully; I know they will,
As I see purple Hyacinth and Daffodil.
The tops of Tulips, with nibbled tips,
Bring a few unkind words to my lips.
The Bluebells, were planted, this past Fall,
Maybe the most beautiful of all.

I awaken to the sounds, at night
Of crying, silently to ease the plight
And realize that the noise I hear
Is coming from someone so near.
I move my hand and then I feel
The tears on my cheeks, are real.
Stop it! I say, in my Father's word
You're a Big Boy and don't be heard.
But at night when there is little sound
There's no one there, no one around.
The pain; knowing the loss will take
Helps me not, for when I awake,
I know that this time of ours
Will soon only be up in the Stars.

Your avatar
Loy • 03/27/2019 at 09:45AM • Like

poignant and eloquent...

The light in the window
reflects from the glass,
letting travelers know your home
while they're walking past.
The Moon reflects off a darkened
room's glass pane,
casting shadows on the grass
as the Sunlight does wane.
It is a captivating view,
for you and me,
holding hands, as we walk
down the street, so happily.

W.H. Auden, (1907 – 1973) English-American poet. He exerted a major influence on the poetry of the 20th century. Auden’s first book of poetry, "Poems", was published in 1928. Auden won the Pulitzer Prize in 1948 for "The Age of Anxiety". Much of his poetry is concerned with moral issues and evidences a strong political, social, and psychological context.

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