Gifts

Germinal.
The bud breaks,
the babe
awakes.
The mother sings
her song
of love and innocence.
The child grows.
The world
knows other songs …
experience
shapes
the days of innocence
and love.
Time moulds.
Angels may
sing,
maggots
cling;
hopes may flower
or die.
Days
are gifts,
each one
a kiss of time.
Let each,
let each and every one
sing long and loud  –
of love.
The kiss
is
terminal.

From ‘Memories, Moods, Reflections

10 thoughts on “Gifts

  1. I like the circular narrative of this poem. It begins with ‘innocence’ and ends with the ‘terminal’ kiss. The kiss of life which ultimately is the kiss of death. Nice contrasting imagery and mood. The poem reads smoothly and the poet’s words are precise. What more can you ask from a poem?

    Like

    1. Thank you, Michael. What led me into this poem was the sudden realisation of the ‘oppositional symmetry’ of ‘germinal’ and ‘terminal’.

      Like

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