Today's my youngest daughter's birthday. Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Hence this poem.
Triolet for Four Daughters
since that rough passage past my bones
awash in pain swathed delight
dearest daughters known/misknown
since that rough passage past my bones
rivers surging over stones
whose darkest patches flash with light
since that rough passage past my bones
washed from pain subdued delight
Joan Kane Nichols
For you poetry buffs out there, a triolet is a one-stanza poem of eight lines, rhyming abaaabab. The fourth and seventh lines are the same as the first, and the eighth line is the same as the second. As you can see, I've taken some liberties with the form.
I like how the poem says much, in few words; and the variation in the eighth line.
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