Dedicated to my grandmothers and my mother
The tears swelled,
Never to roll down.
Her eyes were lakes,
Moonlight caught within.
Her eyes were skies
On the verge of rain.
The stingy gods
Denied her a downpour.
She’s bottled up
Her phial, fragrance made
Of bliss and loss,
Diluting it with time,
And wears her scent.
Are you a connoisseur?
Then guess the notes
Unfolding as she goes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fine poem! I liked it. thanks for sharing Julia.