Feminine Wrist Poem by Uriah Hamilton
Feminine Wrist
Once upon a time,
I was the husband
worried about
the happiness or unhappiness
in a woman's eyes.
It meant something
to procure flowers
or sit across the table
in simple adoration.
Can there be
anything greater
than to contrive a reason
for a summer bouquet?
Not for sure
why I'm alive
or what I'm living for,
but it's been a long time
since it was for
the perfumed fragrance
of a feminine wrist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 6:42:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
