It's snowing on my nectarine blossoms,
They are falling dead- no fruit this year.
Is it an omen?
Sad to think of you sleeping on the couch this past year,
Me alone in a warm bed wishing you would return.
With spring comes change.
Flowers burst to life,
Vegetables set fruit,
I'm sitting near the window
While you are nowhere to be found;
Listening to the snow fall on nectarine blossoms
The silence is defining.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem