E ach day in cotton gloves, the artist works
P erfecting gorgeous flowers made of silk
H armoniously hued and ever perked
E ternal, unlike fresh ones of their ilk
M eandering back home 'midst evening gloom
E ncounters in a sad neglected park
R etiring, non-attention seeking bloom
A nd feels a stirring of compassion spark
L ets dropp her wooly mitt and stoops to touch
B eneath the leaves, dropped petals slowly fade
L amenting tarnished loveliness nonesuch
O bliquely for a moment two lives braid
O ff hand there is no purpose for a glove
M ortality is tantamount to love.
Topic(s) of this poem: love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.