Skipping stone bouncing across your surface
A tearing pain no one can see
You scream out toward the distance
Stretching out from between your knees
Why can’t anyone hear the baby crying?
Standing red-faced, hands over rail
Knuckles gone white from gripping
One long, steep unending wail
She wasn’t there the night before
Out tramping through the woods alone
She can’t hear the baby anymore
Out searching for stepping stones.
One last argument bent her backwards
One last tearing apart of her nails
One last long sorrow will be hers
When the baby falls over the rail.
I hope you have enjoyed this, my newest poem “Sorrow,” which I wrote while the bath water was running…because sometimes, you just have to POEM. 🙂 Weird too, because I rarely rhyme in my poetry. Well, the poem tells me, I don’t tell it how to be. One thing I love about writing is that I never know where it is leading me. I am along for the journey and I love that.
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