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Showing posts from November, 2012

Sometimes I Pass the Place Where We Once Lived - A Sonnet

Sometimes I pass the place where we once lived
And glimpse three ghosts arriving at the door
A woman - me, a man, a newborn child,
Alighting, in the darkness, shocked and sore.
I watch them cross the threshold, disappear,
They don't exist now - all of them are gone,
For brand new parents barely last a day,
And babies only live 'til they are one.
In twenty years I'll show you our old haunts:
"We used to come here once when you were small"
You'll shrug, but I'll see flashes everywhere -
Each gate you climbed, each park, each village hall.
       Our lives move on, we change, evolve, adjust, 
       Leaving our trace, our imprints in the dust.

If you are partial to sonnets about parenting you might also like: 
I Lie With You Until You Are Asleep