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Bittersweet

Poetry Day 8: Flavour, Elegy, Enumeratio

waiting at the gate

Eager feet are stretched on tiny tiptoes at the gate,

Her faced is pressed against the slats, she waits.

Occasionally she retreats to make a daisy chain or two,

She’s been waiting there since lunch, waiting just for you.

And never was there a time that you should arrive late,

But for a child unbound by time, it is best to wait all day.

Picking at the grass a little and humming her idle tune,

She climbs atop the lower slat to steal a better view.

And there, as night does follow day, at the foot of the hill she see’s

Your jet black hair and smiling face; “He’s here he’s here!” she squeals.

And whirling with delight and joy she watches as you near

The best feeling in her world is when she has you here.

Your weekly visits are her joy, her sweet chocolate-raisin treat;

Her walnut whip, her Beano mag, her dance upon your feet;

Her bear hugs and her tickles and her favorite matchbox cars;

Her message in a bottle, purple rain and air guitars.

Those days, though gone, they do live on forever in her heart.

But never has it been the same since the day you had to part.

Chocolate raisins now taste bittersweet upon her tongue,

And as the days turn into years she wonders if she’s waited long.

Eager feet are stretched on tiny tiptoes at the gate,

Her faced is pressed against the slats – she waits.

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