Sunday Four O’Clock

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Nearly four on Sunday afternoon,
The light begins to fade early these days;
Time has changed, and so things darken soon:
Some shapes that once were clear now fade in haze.
There’s blood of guilt and blood of innocence
Though either can break mothers’ hearts in two;
Each child must meet his own impediments
To love and freedom, make a life that’s new.
Who once was helpless leads his mother on
To that same state with distance and new life,
For she cannot protect him once he’s gone;
It’s he who now protects a child and wife.
How do I dare to feel contentment, joy,
At thinking he is safe, my little boy?

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
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