His Letters

Poem By Jolanta Gradowicz

She knows it well: she’ll never look at his eyes.
And yet it’s of little importance to her.
She sends letters to him, and he still replies,
Every message is like a fresh spring flower.

Until now she’s collected many of them;
She tied them in big, dried colorful bouquets
At her old age she’ll reach for a fragrant stem
To recall him and the great, breathtaking days.

And when he doesn’t reply to her some day,
It doesn’t matter - she won’t change her outlook.
She’ll infuse a cup of tea; Green or Earl Grey,
And press the blooms among pages of her life’s book…

Comments about His Letters

Very poignant. There is no greater gift than a close letter friend. Take care. Warmest regards, Sandra

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Other poems of GRADOWICZ

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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.

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I looked at an autumn leaf falling slowly
In the rhythm of a waltz under the foggy skies,
Dancing on the deserted alley lonely,
What an amazing journey right before it dies…

A Dance

Could I ask you to dance, madam?
Let’s go to dance to this music.
You mustn’t be a lonely woman
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And clasped it tightly in my hand.
I felt I found infinite richness,
I couldn’t believe it or understand…

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A fresh breeze surrounded me nicely,
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Dying Embers

I’m forgetting your face and your smile,
I try to recall the shape of your eyes.
You appear in my mind for a while,
But you fade away, everything dies.