Alysyn in the Mirror
She wears a dress her mother wore,
A combination of her mother and I.
So beautiful it makes me want to cry,
Like her mother was years before,
This angelic child whom she bore.
Holding back the tears as I try,
My heart heaving a heavy sigh.
This lovely child whom I adore.
She has my wit and shape,
She shares in my humor too.
She bares her mother’s eyes and smile.
The realization runs me through,
And my mouth sits agape,
Soon she will walk down the isle.
Italian Sonnet
By JToddUnderhill
© 2008 JToddUnderhill
(All rights reserved)
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