The wind exhales;
Plucking pink petals from the trees,
Falling, Mounding, beneath a canopy,
Like amputated sparrow tails
Which bury each April acre-
This is nature’s massacre.
Beauty is so fragile,
That the slightest breathe shall shoe her away,
Yet misery’s more then thrilled to stay-
And reluctantly retires.
Today, these pleasures which we cherish,
Shall slip away, and with us, perish.
If I’m to learn a single thing-
Let it be that petal’s die.
Roots are choked, rivers dry,
And blinking ruins everything.
For one moment in the unaware-
Is a petal stolen into air.
Thought sure it would be about a stereogram but found that is was about much, much more. So pleased to see that you welcome suggestions, so here goes: Shall we perhaps change ‘shoe’ to ‘shoo’? and the apostrophe in petals means ownership so perhaps we could delet that? Now that’s a very good poem that evokes so many word pictures that all of us wish to render into verse, especially those pink cherry petals falling in the spring. You’ve said it for us all. Adeline
Oh My... This Is Beautiful.I Know I Have Few Words When I Comment But Reading Your Poems Just Blanken My Mind. ~Autumn~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, how do you do this super subtle language thing that can move mountains in an eyeblink?