Image by ChatGPT
wild cross left staff last split burial grind space land room hood
Disclaimer: I could no space for grind that didn't sound forced.
A Different Space
The burial was over.
The last casserole
Had been left
On the doorstep.
The phone was quiet.
The walking staff
Was in the corner.
The hood, gloves and scarf
Hung behind the door.
◊
His life had been split
Into before and after,
Crossing between
Two different lands.
This land, this second land,
Is uncharted, undreamed of.
◊
One life eventually ends
But life itself goes on.
Like a new garden bed
Waiting for attention,
It has a chance to renew.
Patiently tended,
Given the room to grow,
It blossoms—
Unexpectedly.
◊
Breathtakingly beautiful poem, dear Sir. The fresh garden bed stays in my mind along with the things hanging on back of the door - the ongoing life with all its uncertainty with hints of dreams.
ReplyDelete