SUNDAY, 4/05/2025

 


I cried the louder at birth

but I was not orphan like Oliver Twist

in Pentonville, London. 

Though twisted I was 

brought into this world,

sired by the sullen glare

of tropical sunsets.


I cry now -even louder- 

at my mother's ascent

into the unknown as a skylark

from a garden of blue roses

by the sea.


I saw her soaring embracing the sun.




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POEMAS DE ERROR Y MISTERIO is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at habaneroerrante.blogspot.com.