The garden outside my home is dying.
There's been no rain for a month
and my plumbing's broke.
Where once I stood
up to my waist in flora,
I now sit in an entanglement
of grief
and shame
and dying things.
Hey Chris, I love this one... The garden outside my door was once lush and full, but now I imagine it looks like yours - Thanks for putting my own shame into a beautiful poem! ~Ray
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Where once I stood up to my waist in flora, I now sit in an entanglement of grief and shame and dying things. very fine and expressive. tony