Girl At A Bus Stop Poem by Leslie Philibert
Girl At A Bus Stop
A white dress
full of winter cherries,
hair curled with frost.
A carried box,
tied with string
and legends.
Maybe a modelled
sister, or a ghost
from a playground.
You turn to
curcumnavigate
in all this road
and wonder this is
as gone as a finger of snow
in April.
The sky is hasty with
a flock of clouds,
broody, hanging.
The next day empty;
a shape without standing,
colder.
The next day empty; a shape without standing, colder. An impressive poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 12:57:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I liked this poem of yours, love your use of language