To Dorothy

You are not beautiful, exactly.
You are beautiful, inexactly.
You let a weed grow by the mulberry
And a mulberry grow by the house.
So close, in the personal quiet
Of a windy night, it brushes the wall
And sweeps away the day till we sleep.

A child said it, and it seemed true:
"Things that are lost are all equal."
But it isn't true. If I lost you,
The air wouldn't move, nor the tree grow.
Someone would pull the weed, my flower.
The quiet wouldn't be yours. If I lost you,
I'd have to ask the grass to let me sleep.


Submitted by Larry Bole

by Marvin Bell

Comments (6)

Help me help you plplpl eeeweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Things that are lost are all equal. But it isn't true. If I lost you, The air wouldn't move, nor the tree grow...... / Fantastic imagery. Thanks for sharing the poem.
A marvelous sentimental verse penned beautifully which is touching too. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
A very touching and exquisitely sentimental and personal poem of love
Life and act. Thanks for sharing.
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