by Matthew Trundle 10 months ago in sad poetry

Inspired by the Moon Landing Anniversary.


Tendrils of her hair cling to her cherub face as she

Runs noiselessly through chirping reeds that

Stand taller than her even as she stretches to the

Tips of her toes, overextending herself in a gleeful

Attempt to pluck them out of the ground in a

Rebellious act against their height superiority, she

Stumbles but doesn’t cry out upon her

Collision with the gravelled footpath, always a

Quiet, intuitive child she knows what is

Awry. Yet when she turns to look at me in

Need of comfort, her eyes don’t shine with the

Promise of tears, instead there’s the melancholic

Look of someone reminded of their own ill health.

Like some fantastical beast I take huge strides in my

Exaggerated approach to her. Her expression is tired and

Unmoving so I lift her, feigning a weak grip so the

Nerve-wracking ascent is made tense by some

Unexpected (on her behalf) turbulence as she

Plants herself firmly on the summit upon my shoulders.

She frets about my neck-sweat in the uncomfortable

Humidity. Her grip is tight as I spin, hurtling towards

Unforeseen dangers in my nauseating rotations,

Through my skewed vision I see a familiar maternal

Figure coming towards us to ground us from our

Boisterous activity that she wishes to join but its

Late in an insuppressibly mood dimming way so we

Return in a resigned yet content manner, sullen that the

Day is receding but feeling its warm memory already

Comforting us. As I sit in the glow of the world’s

Alight hemisphere I remember this feeling as I

Often do when I think of my first daughter and the

Harmonious two years we had with her and I

Maintain this positive feeling to steer myself

Away from the unspeakable and bask in her loving memory.

sad poetry
Matthew Trundle
Matthew Trundle
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