My mother wrote this poem to my father
I think in their courting days. It seems
suitable for our spring now springing.
Inevitable
A stream is singing lullabyes,
Its song has reached my ear;
And though I’m far and far away
How can I but hear?
Violets are blossoming,
Their hue has come to me;
And though I’m far and far away
How can I but see?
A heart is holding tenderness;
Mine once it set aglow;
And though I’m far and far away
How can I but know?
©2019 Jacqueline Jackson
This article appears in May 2-8, 2019.
