Morning Thoughts (2)
When the tree loses its leaves, it loses its children.
One day, I know, my feet will disappear around the corner.
The pain of not living.
The waves ... emotions of the ocean.
My cat parades her gems in the night.
A flower in a bouquet, a word in a sonnet.
Often words remain in buds.
Tonight, I will follow the moon.
To feel, to smell the word before writing it.
Last night I picked two stars, curved them and put them on my eyes.
How lean and bare is my poem in the cool foggy morning.
The bowl of rice is empty, the belly almost empty.
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Author's Note
As with "Morning Thoughts (1), I have translated my short texts from French to English.
Other stories by Erika Byrne-Ludwig
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"Often words remain in buds." Ah, yes. And some of them, like these with their promise, dazzle the soul even more than their blossoms.
Lovely stuff.
esp. "How lean and bare is my poem in the cool foggy morning."
*
Fresh as the morning. *
Lovely work, again.
As always, I appreciate your excellent comments. Many thanks everyone.
Some nice images here. Reverence of the natural world shows through.
Thank you Eamon.
Love and admire this. So spare and so full.
I like and appreciate your comment, Dianne. Many thanks.
Beautiful. A pleasure to read.
Nice of you, Darryl. Thank you.