Echoes Poem by Charlotte Ballard
Echoes
I watch as a slim
Young man, dressed in
Tweeds and patches on the
Elbows, squats down with a handful of
Pebbles and tosses them
One by one into a gray pond.
The ripples blend, wheel within wheel
By the others.
The sun blazes orange
Off his eyes when
He turns.
Trembling, I cannot
Speak.
Did I just see God?
If he is one of us, I would not doubt it. Either that or a fallen angel. They tend to be poorly dressed and are fascinated with the simpler things.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 4:54:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Thought you gave me a funny look that day (don't worry, people always get us confused) . Great poem. Sx