Outside My Window Xxiv Poem by Frank Avon
Outside My Window Xxiv
I could not cope
with hopelessness.
The little maple,
scrawny and bare,
rooted in frozen soil
across our drive -
that slants too far
toward the east
making an angle
with the surface of the earth,
not an erect ninety degrees
but maybe seventy five
as if it were beseeching the sun
once again to warm
something at the core
of its torso,
or set the sap to flow
once more.
A beautifully penned touching poem. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 7:15:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
As always, a very poignant and well written piece. Feel better soon, Frank!