I share the words with the old cherry.
She whispers long, I'm still silent.
Talk to you today, speak fluffy,
and the weight of the branches divides equally.
A branch withered out when Mom left.
Leave it, the others dice for jam.
I realized his silence was for you
and I kept silent with her, my dad.
After a rainy day you have gone.
A second branch has dried out and incised in the sky.
I understood the pains of the tears that they were blue,
but I swam again. That was the way it was.
I've run over your time and your grandson has grown up.
I gathered in my soul the dried branches.
The bigger fruit in the cherry,
for sweet my son with me pits of pitches.
Goodbye and Kisses ...
this poem reminds me of my grandmother. Regards.
"I have run over your time and your grandson has grown up" Nicely written poem.