Sit with it like a nurse
at the hour of dusk
every few minutes
glancing over
and seeing its petals
closing, slowly
slowly,
vegetable muscles
we have no word
such awe
and when finally
closed
there's no knowing
whether tomorrow
they will
open
I wish
your death
had been like that
The slow resignation of inevitability creeps through this beautiful poem, Michael. The metaphor is apt and moving and you have captured here the beat of life, the hearbreak of parting and the sorrow of pain. A concentrated gem. Jimmy
Very sad, but very touching write Michael, thank you for sharing it, Sx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely, Michal. An extremely moving piece