Gossamer wings they always have,
Like the one I saw today,
Perched on the balcony railing to say,
Don't just look, come out to play.
But I'd quickly went in when I saw him come.
As much to see him as not to be touched.
I ran inside and stood looking out,
Trying to figure what he was about.
He sat there on his crooked legs.
Black sheer wings flicked to and 'fro.
Thinking of what I just don't know.
I looked away, and when I looked back,
The dragonfly had quietly left,
And I was lonely and bereft.
Thank you both, Paul and Jesus. Depth and minute detail. I think the ability to write with those qualities comes from appreciating small things. From just sitting, and looking, and thinking.
The poem captures a particular scene and a particular mood so well! You may like to read my poem 'Dragonfly' and comment. I would like to have your comment on some of my other poems as well, if you can make time to read and say a word or two.
@Ruth Walters I know. As long as I can watch sometimes, I'm happy. If I could catch one, it would probably die from unhappiness.. I feel particularly blessed to have seen this one.
The elusive dragon fly, independent of us all, not wishing to be captured
@Bobby Wynn Thank you. Writing about nature and romance have always run neck and neck with me :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
excellent write...a talent to observe the minute detail of the surrounding. beautifully done.