Sunday Four O’Clock


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?


About janemwoodman

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