Grandmother Poem by Christopher Shepheard
Grandmother
You never complain;
You hold your head erect,
White petals wither;
What think you, feel you,
Never utter?
One
Last
Faded daffodil
Nods out of season;
Less
Substantial
Blossoms smother.
You too have done your work,
Left
Your perpetuation.
Moved, you do not move,
Full of sadness, you speak not;
Richly-laden vessel
Brim full,
You make no noise…
Not even to me.
(1991)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 6:59:02 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
Full of sadness, you speak not nice reflective poem, very well written 10