For Christophe
You came, Christophe
When hope was lost.
Though hope is never lost
When doctors
Peering into crevices
And nodding knowingly
Over the scent of semen,
Said you would not be born.
You are a child
Of the woods
Around the Parisian home
Where your mother and I
Lay in the tall grass
Watching the ripples
On the duck-pecked pond.
You are mysterious
Like the woods.
Cold winters and warm summers
Merging
In a gentle sort of way
Strong legged
Your long silences
Leading to paths
That you alone will tread.
Whistle if you feel lost
We have walked that path
Before.
June 12th, 2008 at 3:25 am
Hi U. George,
I liked this simple and powerful poem a lot. Nice reading on a very rainy monsoon day in Goa, as is the rest of your site. Congratulations on the launch. I have bookmarked and will visit often….looking forward very much.
All best,
VM
June 12th, 2008 at 3:40 pm
Yes people actually read poems when they are as beautifulloy written as the ones for Anjali and Christophe.
All the very best
Vidhya
June 12th, 2008 at 3:41 pm
Yes people actually read poems when they are as beautifully written as the ones for Anjali and Christophe.
All the very best
Vidhya
June 13th, 2008 at 12:28 am
Thanks Vidhya
You must be an incorrigible “romantic” like I am and my father was.
Did you know that one of Goa’s most popular “mando” is about unrequited love written by my grandfather ?
I have many poems still to be posted…..slowly
George