Child loss
A chapter in the book Ancient Art of Poetry
River Wild
joy and sadness tangled fate
one came home extremely late
my gleeful sons rods in hand
deceitful river, fish they planned
shifting forest running free
twisting turns among the trees
grinning water spies the meal
two young boys come to heel
laughing, spinning noonday sun
they bait their rods in hopes of fun
jumping floating rock to rock
follows the stream with no dock
fluidic arm grasps the child
muscled water river wild
lost in waves shifting death
a small boy lost, weight and breath
searching, yelling, hoping, praying
darkling dusk a night in making
a silent moan, shifting white
brought my son to my sight.
along the banks amongst the trees
lay my boy who coughed and wheezed
in my arms my son returned
the memory forever burned
love, live in moments they say
So often time just slips away
my sons they grew,
thank god for two
could have been one...
...or none
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Lea Tonin1
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