The roses ask for you when I smell them
They seem to remember your touch more than
others. They can’t bear it when you’re gone
and wonder when you’ll be returning.
I am beginning to do the same
I no longer go outdoors to be with them
because the litany of names that you
whispered in their sweet ears
upon leaving, has grown loud
I think the neighbors hear them
The roses are planted in a row along the
fence. I don’t have the heart to go out
pulling weeds among them. They’re too red
I can’t go past without them catching my
coat. They need pruning. You did that
Now they hang down their faces and look
abandoned. Come back. I don’t have the same
touch. Take one more round with them
Things will never be the same as before you
left, but they will revive, I know it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow, this poem gave me a lump in my throat, Jerry! Beautiful poem!