Back in high school, we had to do an art project on To Kill A Mockingbird for my English class. It could have been a song, a drawing, or a collection of five poems. I chose the third option, and centered the poems around Atticus Finch. This first one is about his relationship with his late wife.
The moment he secured his wife's hand,
Atticus deemed himself a lucky man.
"Fifteen years his junior" didn't matter at all,
When in love they did fall.
But as their golden sun did glow,
Following their every step was an ominous shadow.
"They said it ran in her family," was her shame,
Leaving all attempts to prevent its occurrence in vain.
The birth of a child traditionally brings celebration,
But twice to Atticus this event nearly became an abomination.
One day she did fall,
Answering death's final call.
Atticus felt himself cry,
For a sort of protectiveness within him did die.
Even when she was there, she was gone,
Dwelling in darkness while others lived in the dawn.
She couldn't smile during her wedding day,
For fear of her weak heart stealing her away.
She couldn't play ball with her son, or dance with her little girl,
Her poor health having already made her its churl.
He hadn't wanted to admit that she was never there,
Until now, for she is nowhere.