The Teary Eyed Pietas Poem by Robert Rorabeck
The Teary Eyed Pietas
Tired of the arboretum,
The butterflies disperse with the tourists or,
At least,
The stewardesses:
They can fly over the oceans with them—
They can go almost anywhere
There are ancient pyramids—and the lonely
Battles rage right underneath them in the
Carports of the teary eyed Pietas:
But it doesn’t have to be beautiful—
It doesn’t have to be a place at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 9:04:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
