by Thomas Davis
Where do the minutes that we cherished go?
Two little girls, small hands inside our hands
while four of us walk in a wonderland
of starting out, our faces, hearts aglow
with happiness unrecognized, the flow
of time suspended as its hourglass sands
erase the moment when our lives were grand.
What happens to the joys of long ago?
We never thought the love we two had made
would fly apart in anger, or be lost
to liver cells that turned, as renegades,
into a cancerous, dark, evil holocaust.
We never knew we’d face insidious shades
that leave us mourning all the times we’ve lost.
fourwindowspress 
What happens to the joys of long ago?
–was asking the same thing the other day.
“Happiness unrecognized” – excellent phrase. Sometimes it’s only in retrospect that we cherish certain moments. But I feel that nothing is ever truly lost – especially when love is energizing our spirit. Writing your beautiful poetry that’s so filled with love makes it NOW once again.
Still… my heart aches for the pain you’ve gone through. Thank you for sharing all these meaningful moments in your lives, and may you find Peace.
Very well written. I’ve only written a couple of sonnets but I intend writing more and I’m glad to have made the acquaintance of such a skilful writer as yourself. Heartfelt sentiments in this sonnet for sure.
Great post today thanks. I really enjoyed it very much.
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I’ve read several of your sonnets and what a beautiful, gentle journey they are. I think that they are a wonderful collection of recollections, with that added pizazz of colour that no photo can replicate.
The sonnet is, of course, the perfect form for this: short, precise, fully charged and with that pivotal point just after half way. It’s beautifully done.
Beautiful and poignant.
I feel there is a whole back-story behind this poem which I do not know.
And yet I do not have to know – the poem tells me all I need to know.
You are a true artist with this form
David
Beautiful, heartbreaking.. If we knew all this beforehand, who would have the courage to live at all?
I’m guessing that your sonnets are a collection about cancer? It’s such a beautiful juxtaposition to use an old style form with what we know about cancer in modern day and how we deal with it. Very fresh. I am looking forward to reading more.
Annsosnowski, the sonnets were mostly written while our son was extremely ill and dying from cancer.