Fresh.
From his mother’s garden.
A small white rose
Surrounded by nature’s claws.
A garden no weed can know.
he held onto the stem,
Wet from red tears,
That ran through his innocent hands.
his eyes,
White and dry,
Held the gaze of his mother.
Just the way he held the rose,
She was fading,
And he couldn’t imagine letting her go.
Posts
beautifully written!
ReplyDeletei never knew u write poems...
: )
-Elina
Beautiful. Eloquent and touching. Bitter sweet and sad.
ReplyDeleteExcellent.
nice clear images. i like the way the relatively simple language carries such weight. bravo!
ReplyDeleteK. I kind of get this one but I'm thrown off by the punctuation and letter case. Was that intentional?
ReplyDeleteYes, it was intentional. The punctuation is meant to lead the reader to read the poem a curtain way, a certain rhythm. The letter case, "he" is meant to stress that the boy is "small". You are very meticulous I must say.
ReplyDeleteYour observations that is.
ReplyDelete