Dear parents,
I forgive you my life,
Begotten in a drab town,
The intention was good;
Passing the street now,
I see still the remains of sunlight.
It was not the bone buckled;
You gave me enough food
To renew myself.
It was the mind's weight
Kept me bent, as I grew tall.
It was not your fault.
What should have gone on,
Arrow aimed from a tried bow
At a tried target, has turned back,
Wounding itself
With questions you had not asked.
Sorry
Ronald Stuart Thomas
(1)
Poem topics: food, life, dear, target, good, town, mind, forgive, fault, street, bone, sunlight, arrow, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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