The Writer - Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios & More - 0 views
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sue reber on 18 Nov 09Children grow up way to fast, and before you know it they are making their won way in the world.
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In her room at the prow of the house Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden, My daughter is writing a story.
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Young as she is, the stuff Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy: I wish her a lucky passage.
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I remember the dazed starling Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago; How we stole in, lifted a sash
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And wait then, humped and bloody, For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits Rose when, suddenly sure, It lifted off from a chair-back, Beating a smooth course for the right window And clearing the sill of the world. It is always a matter, my darling, Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish What I wished you before, but harder.
