orphan

♪a rhymed, mirrored octet♪

Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal
the experience behind them.  — Charles Simic


n o
mention
of  my  name
for   n o   father’s
footprints  linger  s t i l l
where my seed was planted
like  the   s p i r i t  of  the  breeze
i    g o   d r i f t i n g   on  the  ocean
knowing naught of love’s devotion
like  a  bird   l o s t   in  the  trees
o   how   d i s e n c h a n t e d
is  my   b r o k e n   will
where no mother’s
earthly fame
pension
grows

© Copyright 2019 December 18
by Clyve A. Bowen♫