O sweet daughter of mine, my heart you have
You had it at the start
I gave it with all my heart
to hold in yours; ne’er to part

A picture
painted with all the colours of imagination
hangs in the gallery of my mind
A beautiful image
and I can't help but gaze upon it with delight

I suspect it will hang there forever more

A sound
playing over and over again
in my ear
A voice --
your voice
unique and soothing
but becoming almost inaudible now
I try hard to remember it
and I ache to hear it

But I fear I may never hear it again

A wish
uttered countless times
rests now upon my lips
Yes, it rests
but only for a while --

*I will utter it again

Cool ripples of water caress her toes,
sand percolates in between--
sunlight and sea dance playfully,
transcendent and serene.

Gliding high on the playful breeze
wings spreading free and wide--
seagulls call and soar together
over the shifting tide.

He knows she is waiting for him alone
there on that distant isle--
in mind's eye she waves to him,
her face lit by a smile.

Yes, eagerly there she waits for him
feeling his love so near--
she lingers awhile by the water’s edge
seeing his face quite clear.

She's dreaming of their togetherness
of the moment she'll hold his hand--
and while she waits, she writes to him
this poem in the sand.

With generosity of time and care
He teaches her about the things he knows.
Such as a couplet is a rhyming pair
And how a sonnet ought to be composed.
Pentameter iambic is the key
With accents, syllables and scansion too.
It seems a huge and baffling mystery
But bit by bit he gives a hint. A clue.
“It helps to tap your fingers on the desk
To count the syllables and hear the beat.
For some this seems bizarre and quite grotesque
But listen hard and count along. It’s sweet!”
          A teacher true who cares for flawless rhyme
          I thank you friend for giving me your time.