It is the Lights around the corners...
Those everyday corners...
That surprise, delight, reappear
For our questions...
Who are you?
Why do you appear?
And, why should we question
Things we question...if not
Seen...once, twice, again...
Then, at peace, we cease to
Question
At all?
Have you not seen your
Grandmother, grandfather,
As a fleeting
Glance?
Elys, this gave me food for thought. I think many of us need to open our eyes more. Thank you. t x
Nice piece Elysabeth reads and flows well good content 10 Chris
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Marvelous language and structure - especially its shifting rhythms and internal rhyme. The inescapable reality that our grandparents are fleeing images of the past reminds us that the same perception awaits us too.