Prisoners Of Joy

 


Day after the fête came in an abject spate of
depression, night had flensed & buried febrile
dawn’s hopes of peaceful rejuvenation

Any dream victimized blindly by dejection may
be more pervasive than imagination – but its
still there as day’s greyness crudely invades

Even writing by the fire failed to allay creeping
damp; the spa which made children’s play such
joyous occasion is in restraint of raw silence

How do you ask, “Where did spontaneity go, a 
gift-wrapped windfall of rare, pleasingly genial 
and consummately engaging repartee?”

Truly – we sorely missed them as soon as their
voices faded away; now melancholic blankets of
misty rain engage in miseries’ petulant tears

Two wee missies, resplendent in cosmic energy
charmed hearts, enslaved their grandparents,
blissfully detaining them as prisoners of joy

A bequest beginning, Stella Ingrid & Freja Jean,
one we will cherish without prejudice in an awed
silence that remains – after you’ve gone
© 10 July 2013, I. D. Carswell