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Mother Has Left Us Thinking
February 2, 2014
Bathed in ice, crisped with frost,
Life has slowed, amounting loss.
Fawns frolicking, amongst pines
Like snow kissed limbs pricked by spines.
What seasons end, doth bring to us,
For life’s soon halt will burry us yet,
O’re bequeath thee soul to fear no fret.
While crocus ponders awaiting light,
Its soul is hers to give it life.
What buds amidst do yonder wait,
For anxious bulbs to make leaps of faith.
Thy winters end has come and gone,
Now spring has come and left us wet,
Pray thee no fear little fawn,
For you shall face no ounce of fret.
© Todd V., Neoga, IL
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