Karen Petersen

Rookie - 65 Points (New York City)

Lost And Found - Poem by Karen Petersen


April isn’t the cruelest month,
it’s March, the month my father died
all shrunken, wasted, finally beaten
on a day of thick, clannish snow,
ice in close chambers,
the melting days of late winter just around the corner.
It was a day of treacherous footing,
the anxiety of spring not yet present.
My diary read “frost, sun, still, gray, ”
and I went for a walk in the woods, stumbling
through the snow, nearly tripping
over a fallen tree, only to see, there,
in a felt of matted leaves,
a small blossom, trembling.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Lost And Found by Karen Petersen

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 16, 2010

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 23, 2010


[Hata Bildir]