Classic Poem

Forgive me if I speak possessively of him
— Who now is yours, yet still is mine;
Call it the silver cord disparagingly
— And weave new colors in an old design,
Yet know the warp was started long ago
— By faltering steps, by syllable and sound,
By all the years in which I watched him grow. . . .
— By all the seasons' turnings are we bound.
But now, I loose the cord, untie the knot,
— Unravel years so he is yours alone
And if there is a message I forgot
— Or something that could help you had you known,
I shall be waiting, hoping you will see
— That him you love, is also loved by me .

Forgive me if I speak possessively of him
— Who now is yours, yet still is mine;
Call it the silver cord disparagingly
— And weave new colors in an old design,
Yet know the warp was started long ago
— By faltering steps, by syllable and sound,
By all the years in which I watched him grow. . . .
— By all the seasons' turnings are we bound.
But now, I loose the cord, untie the knot,
— Unravel years so he is yours alone
And if there is a message I forgot
— Or something that could help you had you known,
I shall be waiting, hoping you will see
— That him you love, is also loved by me .