BY : Paul Jackson
A Poet from Augusta , USA
A poem about my wife.
© 2011 by Paul Jackson
We walked that fall day
looking at the leaves,
we talked that day;
Nature, you, and me.
“The leaves are so beautiful,”
I said, as we communed together,
“It’s Nature’s last farewell
Before the dying weather.”
“Life is like the leaves, I think,”
You said, almost too softly to hear.
“It has its most beautiful moment
When it knows that death is near.”
“Too bad it’s not the same,
for people,” I replied.
You stopped, and turned, and took my arms,
And looked into my eyes.
“Sometimes, perhaps, it just might be,”
you whispered to the wind.
“Am I beautiful now?” you asked.
As we resumed our walk a gain.
***
And then, that night you slipped from life—
To your immortal end.
And still, to me, your beauty lasts,
my dear Forever Friend!
My Other Half
looking at the leaves,
we talked that day;
Nature, you, and me.
“The leaves are so beautiful,”
I said, as we communed together,
“It’s Nature’s last farewell
Before the dying weather.”
“Life is like the leaves, I think,”
You said, almost too softly to hear.
“It has its most beautiful moment
When it knows that death is near.”
“Too bad it’s not the same,
for people,” I replied.
You stopped, and turned, and took my arms,
And looked into my eyes.
“Sometimes, perhaps, it just might be,”
you whispered to the wind.
“Am I beautiful now?” you asked.
As we resumed our walk a gain.
***
And then, that night you slipped from life—
To your immortal end.
And still, to me, your beauty lasts,
my dear Forever Friend!
My Other Half
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