Thunder on Mountain
Fortold of your birth,
Predicted your temper
For what it is worth.
Not ripped from the womb,
Nor untimely born,
Yet you brought with you anger
As night became dawn.
For precisely six hours
I watched you alone,
Till the time came so soon
To return with you home.
That time was so precious,
Those minutes we had,
For now we are parted
And too often I am sad.
No act was so welcome,
Nor treasure desired,
As the gift of the life
That your father sired.
So Golden Boy
Look up at the sun
Come home to your mother
And be her beloved son.
22nd February 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem