Spoils of War

For my daughter, Blaise Romany.

I have sought our scattered scenes

In the seasons of the sun,

I have traced our wayward maps to find

Where we became undone,

Where the tattered snapshot tears

Spilling all we tried to hold,

What became of you, my lovely,

With your hair of yellow-gold?

 

For I only blinked an eye

Only seemed to pause, and then

You’d been lost to me for years and you

Were coming back again,

I have sat the night alone,

Sat the night to blink and stare,

I’ll be old and grey, forgotten

When you’re coming up for air.

 

And I’ve counted all the days

Though I can’t remember one,

Since we went our different ways and let

Our tears dry in the sun,

I have caught your echoes blind

Like the man who never saw,

But you come back to me often, like

Some ancient spoil of war!

 

And I wonder where it lies,

Every year’s repository,

Since the mirrors we once turned to

Ceased to look like you and me,

Though I turned to feed the spark

From the shadow of each lie,

You had slipped so far from me, I found

No trace of you and I.

 

I’m your father, as before,

You’re my sweet, my spoils of war,

And I live with every memory

I garnered in my store.

You may think my love was lost,

That I left you far behind,

But I kept you with me always

In the forefront of my mind!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Ron B]

A very well-written, sad and moving poem. As a single parent, it also struck several chords with me. Very well done. Thanks.