Treasure Island

Thomas Adams

(Sedalia, Mo.)

A Rattle Sound


A rattle sound, the gurgling, a baby's what I hear.
Now time has snatched my baby; turned her tide I do declare.
Even now the face you sees a smiling broad and stout.
But just below the surface loud a Daddy's crying out.
My child is deep and stricken down I know I must be near.
But shadows pat my back and when I look all disappear.
My baby's grown to practice frightful folly mung her friends.
And that has crumbled daddy down; how deep it just depends.

A rattle sound, the gurgling, a baby's what I hear.
And drugs have turned my baby; turned her head I do declare.
Finally not know what to do, nor magic we should use?
For all of everything to now is less for her to choose.
I miss the frantic, bounding sounds of baby growing strong.
And did not see where corner turned and baby-girl was gone.
Please run away from stormy nights, alone, a horrid fright.
Cause Daddy's checking everything to make this awful - right!




Thomas Adams
The Poetaster Aug/2013

Submitted: Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 29, 2013

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