segunda-feira, fevereiro 05, 2007

TO MY GRANDCHILD SEBASTIÃO WITH LOVE




IT WAS A POOR ROSE
FALLEN ON THE GRASS
ALONE ABANDONED WET
HURTED ON THE GROUND

THE MOTHER TREE CRYS
FOR HAVING LOST A CHILD
IT WAS THE WIND AND THE RAIN
THE CAUSE OF SUCH PAIN

BUT........OH GOD
WITH A SAD HEART
LITTLE FINGERS
OF PURE HANDS
PICKED THE ROSE UP

SUCH NICE ROSE WET
WAS A GIFT I RECEIVED
FROM SOMEONE I LOVE
I'LL NEVER FORGET THIS

4 comentários:

Gledwood disse...

I do love your poems Maqira, you have an artist's touch ...

I just popped by to invite you to my competition: guess the horrorscope and win a fantabulous prize!!!

Over at mine right now!!!


Take care Maqira,

Gledwoodx

RUTH disse...

What a lovely way to remember what I assume was an actual occurence.
I hope you are keeping well.

maqira disse...

Gledwood: do you want to say "horrorscope " or "horoscope"

Thanks for your nice words about my poems.

Take care you too

maqira

maqira disse...

Ruth, really the case of the rose was real. Simple things that help me fill my heart with the joy I lost.

I have days up and days down.

My husband's figure is always inside my mind. At the same time my tears never end.

maqira