Arrested Time

Week Seven : CinqTroisDecaLa
Ten lines AaBbCccabc with fifteen syllables each.

Fingers flip pages and eager eyes search through arrested time,
Paper slideshow, mute figures sing of past life in mental rhyme.
Plump toddler seated in father’s lap; to his neck she clings,
Safe haven within enclosing clasp; she trusts him in all things.
Forming shaky cursives she looks up for approval and praise.
Blossoming fast, now she strains impatient at his old staid ways.
Shaking off his cloak of care, enjoying womanhood; learns new plays.
The trip through stored memories has been experience sublime,
If she’d known then of the tragic loss that near future brings,
Enjoyed more the present; not as now, seeking him in past days.