High in the chestnut tree I watch the sea through the leaves, waiting for Daddy's sail to come home while Mama talks to the things she sees. Singing all night she gathers shells by the tide's white mark; pale as the chestnut's steeple of flowers her voice spills petals into the dark. I go into my room and straighten all of my drawers folding my shirts and rolling my socks to close her song behind the door. Rocking, kissing my hair, her arms are locked about me; good in her lap, I mean to be still but my body drowning twists, runs free, runs down the daisy meadow and climbs the tree to ride where the wind sings in Mama's high voice while I watch for Daddy's sail on the tide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POET'S WELCOME TO HIS LOVE-BEGOTTEN DAUGHTER by ROBERT BURNS THE WASTE LAND (1-5, COMPLETE) by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT NEED OF LOVING by STRICKLAND GILLILAN THE SHOOTING OF DAN MCGREW by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE A SUMMER DAY by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING PSALM 98 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: TARAFA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |