First And Last Poem by Andrew Fincham
First And Last
I could perhaps record
in words
how once upon my life
inside
I found
a love
of me
I sat alone
in thoughts
of love
& death
(not Watts’
but ours)
And past the sunlight
on the woven mat
beneath my polished shoe
came cold,
free from
rejoicing,
knowledge
I was glad of me.
In forty years
of consciousness
one time
The first.
It brought relief
It did not last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/12/2024 9:48:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
