windsong

elegy for an abandoned cat
  
flute through my hair  
your lullabies  
and bless me where  
the willow sighs  
   
while here prostrate  
upon her bed  
i softly wait  
to ease my head  
   
of long, long years  
of dread and pain  
from love’s swift spears  
and life’s disdain  
   
your bugle blow  
across the hills  
where idly grow  
the daffodils  
   
for when they dance  
my heart forgets  
the torn romance  
on which it frets  
   
go trump me up  
a thousand leaves  
that i may sup  
where i have grieved  
   
build me a storm  
of elegance  
swiftly transform  
fate’s arrogance  
   
then sing your wind  
song on my grave  
for here you’ll find  
me with the brave  
   
© Copyright 2019 March 25  
by Clyve A. Bowen