To Elizabeth: In Memorium

February 25, 1993|By Edwina Sherudi | Edwina Sherudi,From "Sonnets From a Maryland Suburb."

Elizabeth, who was my child, is dead.

Her empty coat is draped across a chair

Beside the shelves where books she loved

and read

Have been already stripped and left so bare;

Her bed, without a sheet, stands in its place,

The mattress ticking making it so plain

That soon another tenant will erase

All tinges of her presence and her pain.

Elizabeth, who was my child, is here.

I see her with her cowboy hat and gun;

I see her climbing trees, without a fear;

I see her posing as a bride in sun;

I see her as the years went on and on

But this is not enough -- for she is gone.

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