Page the Second


A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Empty Bed--Free Verse--National Poetry Month

I know we probably have another poetry type scheduled, but this one is in my heart today, so I'm doing at least this one my way:

Empty bed
Covers still askew
Reminds me 
That my boy is gone.
Somehow this time 
Hurts worse,
Though in a good way.
More permanent.
I sit at the foot, 
Of his still sheeted, 
Welcome-home-from-your-mission bed

Wearing his underpants 
So he could see the Rangers, 
He was Robin in a scarlet cape
To his elder brother's Bat,
Softy sword thrust through
The waistband, 
Pink fringy cowgirl boots
That he loved
More than 
Fearing the ridicule.

He and the Bat stacked soup cans
Until someone got hurt.
Such a chipmunk, 
Cute and energetic, 
Building problem-solving gadgets
And Leggo towers.
There might even be a brick or two
Lurking in the dust
Beneath the bed,
Along with his lost Scout book
And one or two neckerchief slides.

Will he take his Pinewood derby cars,
Or the notebooks 
Filled with drawings, 
Duck stamp competition ribbons,
Old toys and Waldo books?
Or leave them 
To gather dust
Like his lonely bed.

He was my listening post,
My confidante,
My life line in the storms,
My green-furred island.

How I'll miss him.
But he is no longer
My creature.
I can only hope
I have honed him well for her.

I sit at the foot of his bed
And weep.
© 2017 by H. Linn Murphy