(1913 - 2000 / Cardiff / Wales)

Sorry

Dear parents,
I forgive you my life,
Begotten in a drab town,
The intention was good;
Passing the street now,
I see still the remains of sunlight.

It was not the bone buckled;
You gave me enough food
To renew myself.
It was the mind's weight
Kept me bent, as I grew tall.

It was not your fault.
What should have gone on,
Arrow aimed from a tried bow
At a tried target, has turned back,
Wounding itself
With questions you had not asked.

User Rating: 3,2 / 5 ( 24 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

Almost all thinking people have been pierced by this arrow, no matter what their childhood.