Three Days In Flower Poem by Eleanor Ross Taylor
Three Days In Flower
Monday he went away.
The moon was in her sign,
the weather smiled,
she cut Jacques Cartiers,
thornless,
pink as in holiday.
From a champagne flute
they waved intimate,
buds opened,
centers fulfilled;
she dreamed in their arms,
cloud and city,
music swelled.
Thursday
one wrinkled, mauved,
one sang alone,
one threatened suicide
on glass-topped table.
He flew home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/18/2024 10:00:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
