This is more prose than poetry. I got to thinking about years gone by, about new and old friends and thought about the wipporwill who is less often seen and forges at night. It is a bird with a distinct call and once you have heard one the sound stays with you.It has its chicks in the moonlight so the light helps to forge for food. Helpfull moonlight.
When the wipporwill sings
It's is the age when seperation knocks
It's not the gender or the stock
It's is the flame of love and heart
It's the holding on that we are part
Still the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed
The children leave, the grownups too
The sun has set and the moon is blue
Tears gone dry and the head is full
The living wait by an empty pool
Still the whipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed
A family and a families friends
Looking on as this life ends
Feeling the hurt and the pain
Knowing it was in the living we had gain
Still the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed
What a distance measured only once
Hold on tight less the memories fade
It's sad for it is a hurtful bounce
Every breathing moment we cannot trade
Still the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed
One last cherished word and thought
Oh the lessons wev'e been taught
We go on to an appointed crown
Until we meet again we'll hear the sound
When the wipporwill sings
Beautifully throated and needed
Digby
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I love you Dad. This was beautiful, as always.
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