A sonnet for Sam.
How can I welcome Spring without regret?
This time of new-found hope for life’s rebirth
When every daffodil exhumes my debt
to you whose genes have placed me on this earth.
For you, who never got to read my verse
have somehow spoken through me from beyond
I’ve captured on the page, how you would curse
when fighting your frustration to respond.
As each and every stroke would take its toll
your movement, sight and speech were dragged away
inside that twisted husk, a simple soul
would strive, just to survive another day
And so each Spring, my sentiments are torn
between the loves that we have lost
and those yet to be born.
(In remembrance of my auld Faither.)
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