Poem Hunter
(04 October 1943 / Germany)


Red roses ripen, fruits for eyes in love
I pick just one, so velvety, dishevelled
and hold you close to stubbles of the past
there is a kinship here, of growth and lust
to quickly, with innate intent, expand
become the emperor of some belated speck,
and blossom into sweet eternal life just once.
No rose of any other colour is for me
it is not roses, but confusion rules the world.

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Comments (3)

Very beautiful Herbert. This is the side of you that has become such a treasure. Sincerely, Mary
I enjoyed this... :)
Very good concluding line.