The bright light from the warm sun
fell on an Angel;
But Sam, it wasn’t you!
You were never an Angel.
Your hair was always tussled,
you never had a parting
and when did you ever have a tidy fringe?

Were you really that small?
I hadn’t noticed...
Your new red T-shirt,
made brighter by suns rays;
smart, un-creased summer trousers
and un-scuffed trainers on small bare feet...
Were you ever that clean?

I bent warm, naive mouth
and sun softened lipstick
to small, un-furrowed brow,
met cold, unyielding stone
and rose again,
wiser...
To gaze in humble awe at the indelible,
eternal kiss;
sent, by proxy, from Mother to Son;
And given, though tenderly,
with far less love than she could give.

No Sam, you were never an Angel!
I’ve seen you since, whilst walking in the rain.
Nose dripping, in need of a hanky,
you deftly whipped it from my sleeve
and dropped it into a puddle!
You can’t deny it; I know it was you;
For I glimpsed you, momentarily,
hand on chubby tummy,
bent in an impish, hearty chuckle.

And when you make too much noise in Heaven,
do they send you to the zoo?
When monkeys are posed for the perfect picture,
What distracts them, is it you?
Is that why, just as the cameras click,
they turn their backs and show their ugly, psychedelic rears?

Your mother carried her grief with dignity in Spring.
In Summer, your father, who had only stayed for you,
left.
In Autumn your Mum was a single parent to two of her children.
She got by.
Then came Winter, with its bitter snow,
Distraught, she sobbed.

She believed herself a negligent, thoughtless mother,
who’d left her son out in the cold-
in his new Summer clothes...
And so, I gave to her,
with heartfelt compassion,
my Sam,
A cheeky, chubby cherub...

Tell me,
have you ever seen a cherub in a winter coat?
Or even heard of one wearing clothes?
They don’t, do they?
No Sam, you were never an Angel,
but I can plainly see you as
a cheeky, chubby cherub.

I’ll give harsh reality a miss;
So, Sam... Stay happy.
Have fun... See you!
And Sam... Please forgive
my overwhelming gratitude
that it wasn’t
my child.

Ballad

Free Verse

Haiku

Sonnet

Villanelle

Rondeau

Links

For more information about leukemia, go to my Links page.

 We were lucky this time...  But for anyone who wasn't, or is interested in Cancer Research, please visit my Links page.

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Hands. Free Verse by Liz Fairley. These hands once held a lover’s hand. These same hands wiped away the tears that trickled from my chin, as rain trickled down my window pain, trickled through my lover’s ashes and washed away my lover .
This one, (short but sad), is written through the eyes of 'Debbie', a fictional character from the short story I had published in 'Woman'  magazine, in April '99.  Her lover, 'Mike', died from heart trouble. Anyone who wants to find out more about heart research, or grief counseling, will find them listed in my Links.

More Free Verse.

Overture in the Rain.

Some words for my dog,

Tara.

 Haiku.