When Words Mean NothingA Poem by Chris ShawWhen I miss her now, I think of this and know that although it was a long time coming, she got her wish.
I, a so called poet,
who can burn a blank page with word rage, can turn a lively sparkling sea into a calm, soothing balm. Who can conjure up a sunrise or sink the sun beyond a horizon paint words in colour on a grey wet day evoke the scent of a rose in the throes of midwinter and melt snowflakes in summer heat. I can convey all this and yet when my beloved Mum elderly and frail, ailing and sick tells me she wants to die, all I can do is sigh and tell her I love her. I have no words that will bring her a crumb of comfort
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Added on August 26, 2018Last Updated on July 4, 2022 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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