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Drifting, shifting,
silting snowflakes,
moths upon the window sill
and his brief days of these war years
insect flutter, fallen, flutter,
draped upon his final ground.
Yearning, turning
trailing, failing,
the war's now globed,
an old porch light.
Then touch of striving,
(a trail that whispers!)
skims her face
one moth-strewn night.
Drifting, drifting,
dancing snowflakes,
moths upon the window sill
and his brief days of these war years
insect flutter, fallen, flutter,
draped upon his final ground.
Yearning, turning
trailing, failing,
the war's now globed,
an old porch light.
Then touch of striving,
(a trail that whispers!)
whisks her face
one moth-strewn night.
Brilliant poem Glenn. It's amazing how you've captured this moment that many others would miss. Lovely sentiment too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you've capture the moment so well, I'm still lost in the translation...excellent writing my friend.