The Regret Of The Toys Poem by Reva Kern

Always within myself I keep a profound sadness
The etched friendship of an adorable child
For whom her death sounded the fatal ivory horn
Because she was beautiful, and gracious and blonde

And yet, I feel blocked against the world,
Like a prince of the North that defends his citadel
And I'm sorry for the regret that I am suppressing
Like love after seven years no longer pouring forth in waves

And so the the day fled of childish toys
After Lucile and I played with marionettes
And ran, the two of us, in our wrinkled dresses

The little girl has climbed to the bottom of the heavens
And I have lost the pride of dressing the dolls...
Ah! To cross the great door of twenty years soon.