There are three very young children
whose impression of life and family
is yet intact. Two little girls, resembling
their mother, a brother who looks just
like his father, doted upon and cherished
as their parents had once, signing their
marriage compact, agreed they loved
and would cherish one another unto
the near eternity of the future.
The neighbourhood is abuzz, not
with rumour, but speculation, softly
as though murmuring words of personal
regret for yet another human tragedy.
Those who infer the sad details share them,
but they are wrong; it is he, the devoted
husband and committed father, who has left.
Family assets to be sundered and
re-distributed, the house has been speedily
sold, the profit somewhat narrower than
anticipated, for those who once loved, now
loathe and full separation must be achieved.
The oblivious children will be yet advised.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Yet To Be Advised
Labels:
Poetry
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