For Fathers' Day
Its hands over that sad, sad time
When mortals and angels cry,
And the booming chime, deafening,
Echoing the doctor's prognosis -
Blind, definitely, deaf, probably,
Not much of a future at two weeks,
And in that premature witching hour
We had to decide like gods your stop-watch fate,
Holding your tiny hands before your time was up.
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 397 times
Written on 2009-06-20 at 20:52
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Dead reckoning
The grandfather clock faced the wall,Its hands over that sad, sad time
When mortals and angels cry,
And the booming chime, deafening,
Echoing the doctor's prognosis -
Blind, definitely, deaf, probably,
Not much of a future at two weeks,
And in that premature witching hour
We had to decide like gods your stop-watch fate,
Holding your tiny hands before your time was up.
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 397 times
Written on 2009-06-20 at 20:52
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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