During the day
more and more
a certain thought
occurs to her:
men, loved and unloved,
even the married, usually die first.
She thinks "this is a
weird honour, but for whom?"
Instinctively she wonders
"Where's Paul?"
Then she imagines his funeral
and post mortem emotions
run through her heart
like wild horses galloping
through virgin land.
3 comments:
Nicoletta - Wow -- your poem really struck me. Very powerful and beautiful.
I am enjoying following your blog.
Best wishes from Anne
Thanks Anne
All the very best
N.
Quite a powerful and emotive write.
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