The Thursday Poem

Potted Flowers with Books IV
Eric Barjot

Little Elegy

for a child who skipped rope

Here lies resting, out of breath,

Out of turns, Elizabeth

Whose quicksilver toes not quite

Cleared the whirring edge of night.

Earth whose circles round us skim

Till they catch the lightest limb,

Shelter now Elizabeth

And for her sake trip up death.

X.J Kennedy

(21st August 1929 - )