Sonnet 410

In the scheme of life, what have you proven?
Your babe lies swaddled in a stranger’s arms;
And of lost mother’s love, what part is shriven,
Who weighs the worth of your maternal charms?
Each day you toil, that child, bereft of breast
Is shaped in purpose by another’s mind;
His rote routines now formed of her behest
So he may follow all her proofs in mime.
His changing face and smile, yea his first words
Each day do but reward a callous ear,
While late in evenings you return from work
Too tired to play, and mock him with a tear.
On trek to virtue what icon true love staves,
Where hands that once rocked cradles now dig graves.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s