Poem By Jolanta Gradowicz
A beautiful Flower is growing here
In the sunny, and neat, and tidy place.
Its leaves and petals seem fine and clear.
I dream to pick it gently and embrace.
But the Flower doesn’t belong to me,
And someone else will enjoy its odor.
Someone’s hands planted it under the tree
In the fresh, crystal clear air.
I can’t resist its exceptionality,
And leave it indifferently, and go on.
I look at it with curiosity
While it seduces me in the sun…