Early that morning
From our back door, I saw you walking
Dew was still on the grass
Traces of your foot prints
Remained as far as eyes could see
I marveled at the sun's radiance
Tried to compare the two,
The sun became brighter
As you walked further.
Until next summer!
Stood, gazed at the flower garden
Butterflies flapping wings
And kissing flowers,
Thought of how blessed they are
And how I am not.
Summer has ended
Fall is now here, then winter.
In the midst of absolute solitude,
I engaged my mind with melodies of jazz,
As old Negro spiritual failed to bring comfort.
Imprints of yesterday's agony
Remain today's pain.
Tomorrow's forecast shows rain
The following days, no change.
Summer fling! A seasonal pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem