So with a form in mind, I still needed a topic. I asked Kirstin. She said, "Why don't you write a poem about us?" Alrighty, what better topic could there be?
I got the math right, the eight lines and the number of syllables, but the deliberate use of accent is definitely a stretch, so I don't think that the poem reads as well as it would if I had the luxury to vary the lines.
Regardless, it was fun to do. Here's today's poem:
My four, my children are my legacy,
The worn jewel in my crown, that shines bright,
A mark of that which is the best of me,
No regrets have I; I have done this right,
I live for them, and they exist for me,
Dreams unachieved, my four children still might,
Accomplish all that they set out to do,
Pursue their talents, true happiness, too.
Alex, our first, nine before summer's close,
The bud of an artist runs in his veins,
Quick with numbers and a new love of prose,
Sensitive, carefully we hold the reins.
Connor, six now, his social circle grows,
Daring, he trusts, collects bruises and stains,
Creative, he sketches with clarity,
Gentleness beneath the fire that is he.
Kirstin, big sister, feminine, and sweet,
At four, a dancer, a singer, friendly,
Verbally blessed, Affectionate, and neat.
Baby Brooklynn, completes our family,
Bright and alert, gummy grins are our treat,
Skills undiscovered, my fourth prodigy.
To watch my heart beat on in another,
No regrets have I to be their mother.
- Laura Freeman -
April 8, 2013