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Her son is her song

a sonnet

By Emma DatsonPublished about a year ago 1 min read
My son James' footprints

Summer has passed her by, time has moved on,

Autumn has crept up, is now upon her,

No child of her loins, that time, he has gone,

Life floats on, it has become such a blur.


She dreams of him often, her little son,

If only he was still here, on the earth,

Instead, she looks for him, under the sun,

Because her life now, is full of his dearth.


Winter is ahead of her, a siren,

She hears that damn footman, his low snicker,

She strides always, in lonely environs,

Listening for his song, angels whisper.


No matter, she knows her love will live on,

This she ensures, for her son is her song.

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About the Creator

Emma Datson

I am 40ish, medically interesting, Australian poet, who is finally using her voice. My superpower is my vocabulary. Dive in and read an eclectic mix of poetry and creative non-fiction, full of love, grief and hope. Light, love

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