What sorrow is this?

 

What sorrow is this,

that began with summer's kiss,

that promised forever love,

that assured of life-long bliss?

 

 

What untimely winter has taken you away,

darkening our delightful day,

subduing our blooming love,

leaving pain born of dismay?

 

Why, could not my summer's kiss

comfort through winter's cold;

why, could not our blossomed love

warm you as we grew old?

 

Though you have 'this winter' left,

for another's summer kiss;

sweet memories' fire shall keep me whole,

'til in heaven's love, you, my love,I dismiss.

 

D.M.W. November 15, 2012

 

 

 

 

 



The Rocking Chair

 

A rocking chair I hear

in the room above mine;

a lady from a marriage

short-changed

rocking past cares away

with the present by design.

 

"Work, work, I call upon you,

take my cares away;

keep me busy with chore

and hobby;

distract me from the missing ring-

forfeit ring of wedding day.

 

"Comfort, comfort, comfort me,

in your own time;

as I rock and drink glass after glass

of loving warming wine.

Grant me the courage to sleep again

before the midnight chime."

 

The rocking chair stops.

Walking, I suddenly hear.

The lady paces back and forth;

walks to think, to recover

her sanity;

walks to outrun an outcast's fear.

 

A blurring bed calls,

but the lady returns instead

to the comfort of her

rocking chair, only to pause,

to toast midnight's chime,

filled with new day's dread.

 

D.M.W. November 15, 2012