Bobette Bryan's Poetry


Dying

I came too late
and you gave too little.
And now, what I feel for you
is slipping away,
dying the way people die,
dying like cut roses
dying the way childhood wonder dies,
dying like rain
dying the way the wind
stops blowing.
And we all know that
when something is dead
we can never bring it
back to life.

© 2010 Bobette Bryan






Share |


Poetry Index


Sign My Guestbook | View My Guestbook