Was that you
the low morning
Sun, shimmering in the
glade,
smiling?
Was that you
a chill chasing up
my spine, a wild Orchid
in the breeze,
swaying?
Was that you
a brilliant
Red Admiral
fluttering
just two inches
from my face
dancing?
Was that you
my little
girl
always
nine years old
nine years old,
was that you?
4 comments:
lovely poem, rog.
ak
Roger, everytime I read this poem I well up. It's beautiful. HG :-) xx
Beautiful, sad, haunting. Suffering with you as I read it.
Beautiful Corny.
L
x
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