For Fathers' Day

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 359 times
Written on 2009-06-20 at 20:52

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liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
This is such a
moving & sad poem.

One oftens forgets that
days like Mother's & Father's
Day are for some a painful
reminder of their loss rather
then a day of celerbration.

Thank you for writing
& posting this.


melanie sue
I am at a loss for words upon learning of your loss. I am so sorry. But I do believe we will join our angels one day in Heaven's realm.