Where are the boats.the anchor chains?

We stopped outside the gates of the small park
A pool had grown from  heavy  Pennine  rain
A danger to the old  when nights are dark

I leaned on the  old push-chair ,aching heart
My other sister ran around blocked drains
We stayed outside the gates of the small park

She asked, is this the sea, or just a  part?
I said, where are the boats.the anchor chains?
A danger to the old  when nights are dark

She saw a vision  coming from her  heart
She saw Dad cross the ocean leaving wains
I looked  right through the gates of that small park

Oh,Daddy, do not leave us all forlorn
We heard an angel sounding the ram’s horn
We wept  quite near the gates of the small park
The  pool  showed our reflections, they were stark

 

About Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation
This entry was posted in poetry, reflections, Thinkings and poems, villanelle. Bookmark the permalink.

I welcome comments and criticism

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.