She used a small delicate blade
to patiently peel the fruit
of its tough outer skin;
each layer curled away and
gently fell from its sweetness.
A better suited tool was needed
to rout out the center
where the original seed
could be effectively expelled.
Its thrust violent and effective
brought the color of a memory;
she could only watch and weep
as the blood of today
drained from yesterday's sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem