Sigh Poem by D A Phinney

For sentiment
I had only to forsake the real world.
Not a very high price to pay,
In my opinion.
I'd seen enough.
When my son was called to war
I threw glory and honor,
Courage and patriotism,
At him,
And it was these
Which formed my tears
At his departure,
At the proper time.
I knew how much more deeply
And true to the heart
Some lucky piece of shrapnel can so
Unluckily go.
When Mary was stricken by
The leaden toll
That tried to pound my spirit
To some sensible consideration
Of the mystery of existence,
Of its loss-
Well, I really wallowed then,
Bathed in half-forgotten photographs
And love letters,
Standing in my charcoal suit
For the mirror.
The river reshapes the stones it rolls.
I am a skipping stone
Cast by a golden child
On a golden afternoon.
The dew,
The morning dew
Melting from a fragrant petal
Into fog.
The smell-
Oh, you get the idea.