Jolanta Gradowicz Poems
A beautiful Flower is growing here
In the sunny, and neat, and tidy place.
Its leaves and petals seem fine and clear.
I dream to pick it gently and embrace.
But the Flower doesn’t belong to me,
And someone else will enjoy its odor.
Someone’s hands planted it under the tree
In the fresh, crystal clear air.
I can’t resist its exceptionality,
And leave it indifferently, and go on.
I look at it with curiosity
While it seduces me in the sun…
To Emily D.
You could touch life like nobody else.
When you put your letters in a drawer,
You had to feel isolated and worse -
You wanted to love – more and more…
Your verses - short subtle messages –
Disappeared in a dark wooden box.
Those works of art, the little miracles
Were waiting patiently like ships for docks.