I studied grief
weeds in my garden
I hoped they would be
no longer or deeper
than is needful
for you to see
the place was planted
by one caring man
is alive with plants
memory producing
fruit for generations
the touched becoming
touchers knowing
kindness never really leaves
it just rides the wind on down
finding other digs
enriching other soil
Trees seem to find their way
in winter snow
even if they never move
and spring bounces back
fresh from a meal
of decomposing leaves
.....copyrite years ago...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is an original idea and concept for a poem.i really enjoyed it Mr Percussion