I remember very little, of when I was young,
I recall even less, of a special someone, who I am told,
was so proud of me and so boastful, 'I had his eyes'...
I was born, on a first Spring day, I was his 4th, but he could not stay.
...
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so nice i really so happy by reading this poem.. write some more poem like this.. its simple and so good wonderful.. nice
You made me feel and let me into your life and loss. That is the mark of good writing. Loved your poem.
Such a sad story, but told extremely well. You have his eyes, and you have these few precious memories. Hold on to them. May God bless you.
That was amazing, I was right there viewing it all with you. Well written, Great job.
Your poem reminded me of the poem…”Home they brought her warrior dead: by Tennyson I can see the nostalgic yearning turning to pride, revealing the connection…HIS BLUE EYES… I try to recall, the more I age, but just these memories I have, And one other thing, I have his eyes... MY EYES ARE BLUE beautiful expression and a sincere tribute…. the first day of spring also related …Writing does give you a vent and makes one lighter… **Abha**
Sad story of irreplaceable loss well articulated and nicely penned from the heart with insight. Very heartfelt with strong emotions. Thanks for sharing Karin and do remain enriched.