Passage For One - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
He'd chosen wisely for the end.
A lazy Sunday afternoon
in late October, summer's close,
when all the coloured leaves,
adrift so briefly for a final glory,
had reached their Mother Earth.
He soon would be the straggler,
hung just above the sedge,
where, in a bare-armed sycamore
he'd found his secret womb
that, in his dreams was fed
by raging waters roaming through
the venules of a nursing mother's breast.
Framed by the violet of rhododendrum suns.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You