The instruments
of Maths
scattered
here...
a protractor
by degrees
measuring an impossibility of...
there...
a ruler
lost in the distance
both compass & divider
lie beside her
an inky chewed eraser
a packed lunch
still intact
flouresent pink - covered
in hearts and flowers
customary schoolgirl
'stuff'
the same name
again & again
now obsessively hidden within
now blazoned forth
in each heart
with a flourish
new mobile
(face cracked)
with new ringtone
LADY GAGA.
the car
stripped of its speed
tame beside her
blood invisible
on its redness.
A sobbing escaping
the gathered crowd
like an innocent balloon
escaping the hand of a child.
A life, not exactly wasted, but lost way, way too soon...and the sadness of it all. Those scattered bits and pieces, the instruments of maths...is a very painful image. Well done, my dear one, very well done. A change of pace for your usual lighthearted search for love, but from the soul as well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another excellent, poignant poem..... Ruthie