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Posts: 106
Joined: Mon Jun 20, 2005 8:41 pm
Location: Atlanta, Georgia


Postby ha » Tue Mar 25, 2014 11:55 pm


The picket fence was not as tall as some,
her nose would rest upon the topmost rail
while waiting for his black sedan to come
on Sunday afternoons. He sent no mail
but without fail, at two, a dusty plume
extending from its hurried downhill romp
announced he was on time and they'd consume
the picnic basket at his side, to pomp

and circumstance he'd readily provide
with charm galore. He was the regent prince
and she, at six, the princess at his side,
one afternoon a week. At twelve and since,
she was uncalled upon, as if somehow
perfidity, had sworn to disallow

a faithful hero's right to wear the crown
too long, and play the doting father well.
He sent no mail, but without fail far down
the lane she'd walk till Sunday's vesper bell
recalled to prayer, Saint Catherine's novices.
What love is this, to have the spirit soar
the heights, yet crash without the services
of answered prayer to fortify the door

marked family? Perhaps, she should become
the newest sister, Mary Evangeline,
within an order, wed for life, who'd sum
her task, "What do I know of love within
the confines, 'Faithfulness in giving care',
and whom to trust and count on being there?"

-- HA


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