"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray
"Poetry unites." ~Anon
"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson
Written by Karen Nowviskie
She lives in West Virginia, USA
Her blog: Keeping Secrets
O, Danny Boy
We climbed the rocks above the gorge
to have your party as you wanted.
The evening sun shone from the ancient
river like a fire encased in steel.
The air, sweet and cold, rang little
breath clouds as we sang your Irish song.
Anna, swaying as she sang, held to you as you
had held to her when she was still your child.
You didn’t mind the clinging; you seemed
in no great rush to go your way alone.
When finally it was time for you to leave, you faltered,
torn between falling back with us and flying free.
Just then, the wind picked up the tune, the trees
piped out your name, and we in silence watched
as you embraced the sky.
Posted with consent from the writer.
Featuring: Karen Nowviskie, Poetry
Note: All written material is copyrighted by the individual writer and/or blog author, and may not be used without written consent. Copyright © Breathing Poetry 2009. All Rights Reserved.
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