A crash destroyed my happy dream,
it must be glass that loudly shattered,
turns out a palm frond that I'd left,
just slightly yellow, and preparing
to leave its mother, one tall tree,
just hanging there, its quick revenge
destroyed the window near my head.
And as its tentacles were reaching
fanned by a breeze, which was a cousin
to stronger winds, four tiny touches on my cheeks
were making peace, while bearing need,
and logic from the palmtree kingdom.
I get the hint now, gentle giant
will point my ears and friendly eyes
at you who gives me shade and beauty.
And thank you for this dreamtime lesson.
Another memorable poem from you. A pleasure to read. Chrissie
Your a master in any form, long, short, they are all just great. I miss you my friends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Herbert i have given you a ten, all your poetry is worth the maximum mark you never deserve a one, when i read the title i thought of my peace being shattered by english guns, young guns english young guns but all is quiet on the western front Warm regards allan