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To Patrick

I'll dream these lines, since you’re no longer here;
today your voice, laughter and your soul
are sunflowers in Summer air, you stole
their radiance to fill my hours with Irish cheer.

My love for you is wedded to morning’s
elemental stage, coffee cups, friendly chats.
I spy raindrops sparkling on your jaunty cap;
my heart flutters each day the doorbell rings

three times; lively tunes on flutes you loved to play
for many gifted years; and in the knowledge
that we’d surely part, I prized Graduation Day,

artists in the park who sketched your image
on grainy paper. So God dictates life’s ways:
absence, instants in life’s sacred pilgrimage.

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Comments

to your son. I have not lost a child and can't really imagine it. I know the deep hurt of losing someone I've loved, but not a child of mine. Those little things that we remember; snapshots of time, the way that they smiled, a favorite hat, a loved object of theirs. Yes, the hurt comes back fresh, but also as a comfort; that there is still a piece that survives, as long as someone remembers. I could find no fault with your work, although I might let you know, that the [three times] belongs on the end of the previous line; else it creates confusion. ~ Geezer.
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Hello, Gracy,
This is incredibly beautiful. To be able to express such pure and genuine feelings is a gift - this is wonderful.
I also admire your form. I know so little about poetry structure, but this is tight and still has a smooth and natural flow. Is this a lovely Sonnet?
Such endearing poetry. Incredible.
Thank you for sharing.
L

Thank you, Lavender, for reading and commenting. I wrote it to my son Patrick, who died of ALS aged 29 years. I'm not that good at sonnets, but this one is more or less OK, I had help in another forum. If anybody wishes to correct my meter, I'll be delighted.
I wrote many poems after Patrick died, as well as some to my late husband. I found it therapeutical and it helped me mourn those awful losses. xxx

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Getting it on paper from words thought in the minds voice is the best catharsis for an aching heart

Chrys

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Thank you, Geez. I'll revise that part. Yes, I have many photos and mementos of my lost loved ones. Writing poetry and short stories has helped me a lot. But I ended up with Fibromyalgia, a painful, chronic muscle disorder. It's better now, since I became a vegetarian. Don't know why, it was not a choice, I simply began to dislike meats in all forms or from any animal. It's helped my general health.
I'll return to tweak that bit. xxx

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Thank you, Teddy. I try my best, but don't always get the meter right. As I said, writing poetry and short stories about my lost loved ones has helped me get thru' the worst of the mourning, but they are always in my mind. At night I pray that I'll meet up with them in Heaven, to say all the things I forgot at the time, such as thanking my parents for their good parenting and conversing with my boys about my total ignorance about ALS and schizophrenia. I was young and did my best. I even got Patrick an online keyboard, which were just invented and very expensive. It served him well, almost up to the end.
Bless you for your comments. xxx

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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