J. G. X. Borrege
Comments about J. G. X. Borrege
Agnes Dead These Many Memories
Draw back the curtain of indifference
At all her ageless temple where gravestones life.
Above a butterfly in wind
Flutters like a trembling hand
Writing a last will.
The flowers petals tear and scribble on the fast breeze.
Moonlight on stones glows like a cup of tears.)
Oh tell me
Why Agnes died,
And who grew aghast
At her sightless eyes.
A time she passed my way
Again and again,
And left no imprint on the solid land,
On rose, on the dancing daffodil.
Oh, ghost or seraphim