I Was Barely Nine Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

I was barely nine,
sitting outside the window
in the bright sunshine
listening to the slow

melancholic lullaby
I heard my mother sing
to a fretful child, almost like a sigh,
but even in the sun nothing

could warm my heart
as I listened to the song:
and when it ended I heard her start
sobbing to herself for such a long

time. But my sister was still,
as quiet as that very quiet day
we did not even hear her life spill
into death: I only saw my mother sway

as if she were singing a lullaby,
and I wanted to go to her, as on
that bright sunshine day, and cry,
as I did under the window when the sun still shone.