Return Postcard Poem by Barry Middleton
Return Postcard
ghost upon the hill departed
yes the bones do lie
disheartened and discarded
autumn has no sharper smell
to consecrate the frost
wherein our souls must dwell
to bleached bones left behind
and time's beguiling wind
progeny is blind
grief salvation prayer and tears
can never consecrate
the finality of years
so the house where we endured
where fallen spirits failed
is evermore obscured
and his 'A Postcard from the Volcano'.
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 12:39:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
