Echo

I've been wanting to have a crack at writing this for a while, but I started writing haikus about sport in my spare time instead, so here's this, just fitted it in

ECHO PASSING

He sang for me a thousand times, and I,

In turn, without a word, kept safe the boy,

All plump and green, already bold, but shy

not armed with ancient songs – yet - to deploy,

from north to east, across each land and sea.

He would be heard, sung back, acclaimed, adored,

His loves ransacked for clues. Yet first was me

And I have, largely, gladly, been ignored.

He spoke of me, his eyes a childlike blaze,

He sang for me a thousand times, I know.

We loved; from me he learnt to bend a phrase

So each would feel addressed, embraced – just so.

The curse; this gift it left the man defiled

But I, his mountain nymph, I’ll take that child.