When I visited last, my child,
You were a bundle of joy bare on toes,
Time had stopped and memories isled.
Like a bud in blossom you'd smiled,
Blossom beginning to become rose,
I recall when I came, my child.
Next visit and I was beguiled
To see, the bud had a sharper nose,
Time flows my child, never gets piled.
Your fairy-like smile as always mild,
May be your Ma's your age now shows,
And bit on father styled, dear child.
Impressions rush, long in me piled,
That my mind shall slowly disclose,
How time stops, rush at times my child.
It is to my mind's eye so wild,
Whenso my soul suffers her lows,
I open up that file, my child,
Time never stops, memories get filed.
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Villanelle | 08.04.04 |
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