Clara

The ever generous Maker gave us
a beautiful sunny day; Sunday.

But the fisherman’s boat
Had hit the shoal,
And rain drops fell off the pane.
Who was in pain?

The echoes of a beautiful cry
Could be heard outside the magnificent
But dilapidated structure.

It was the advent
Of one of the Maker’s
Most priced creations; Clara
Just a little child she is,
But fills my heart with overwhelming delight
And pastes a smile on my visage
With every epithet she spews.
Coupled with her
Beauty and innocent virtues –
She is perfect.

She is perfect,
But perfection may fail
To fit her like a dress with age.
How I wish she would be the same forever.

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