To Henrietta Lyn

by Ivan Donn Carswell

We're going to miss you little girl, you leave an aching space
way out of all proportion to your size. Tomorrow we must face the day
without your lavish greeting; without your urgent bark to wake us up
and say, "Let me out of here, the sun is up, I want to play."
We're going to miss you little girl, your cheerful wagging tail,
your blithe and saintly spirit quenching petulance. Each day
you trampled indolence with unbound joy and claimed
our hearts anew, we bloomed with you and learned to live
outside our petty selves for endless moments at a time.
We're going to miss you little girl, you filled our hearts with light
and gave us hope and cheerfulness when sombre shadows fell,
you declined to be subdued in shadows you disdained to see,
and shades of darkness in your supple spirit were dispelled,
now in the ceded aftermath we feel a weary, welcoming delight.
We're going to miss you little girl, our tears are turbulent
and gusts of grief regale our reprimanded souls, we seek
an answer in the cogent light of day without your warm divinity
as guide, and where your soul resides we find a harmony
as gentle as the calming breeze you blew into our tepid, troubled lives.
© I.D. Carswell

Last updated May 02, 2015