Out Of Reach Poem by Lesley Merrin
Out Of Reach
The purple cyclamens bloom.
She's not there to tend them:
They grow awry
Not cultivated as before.
The Linnets nest nearby, unaware,
Bloodied fuschias are heavy in flower,
Drooping appropriately.
Her footsteps no longer echo on the stone.
The sweet music of the thrush goes unheard,
The cheeky wren unseen
Except by friends
Who come to tidy the once kempt garden.
Her life continues but
Her head is in another place
No one can reach her
Hope does not die.
I really admire the way you've combined such rich imagery and vivid colours with a moving sense of pathos/melancholia.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 8:21:49 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Oh what a very sad glimpse of life; the colourful, bustling garden thriving, life going, on whilst her presence has ceased, her own life fading. This is life, life does go on, but you have used the juxtaposion beautifully - I really feel the loss....