Brooding Grief

A yellow leaf from the darkness
Hops like a frog before me.
Why should I start and stand still?

I was watching the woman that bore me
Stretched in the brindled darkness
Of the sick-room, rigid with will
To die: and the quick leaf tore me
Back to this rainy swill
Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me.

by David Herbert Lawrence

Comments (3)

This is one fine poem. Am not sure, but i feel like you are the first poet who wrote a poem for this st. Congratulations. You already have a place in heaven :) Peace.
What a lovely tale - and who better to keep it alive than you Peter. Well written and very enjoyable. Glad you're back. Hugs Anna xxx
Fact combined with fiction makes myths to be passed down through time, and you have done that so well. A beautiful, lyrical work, Peter, and I enjoyed it very much. Scarlett