American library books Β» Poetry Β» Awaiting Spring by Laszlo Kugler (i am malala young readers edition .txt) πŸ“•

Read book online Β«Awaiting Spring by Laszlo Kugler (i am malala young readers edition .txt) πŸ“•Β».   Author   -   Laszlo Kugler



Awaiting Spring

Clouds above me give up their yield,

Letting rain fall upon the field.

An icy breeze blows from the west,

To sway tall reeds from right to left.

 

A mouse, God’s gentle creature, roams,

Seeking shelter before cruel storms.

Earth's denizens, both large and small,

All gather food before the Fall.

 

Tulips and roses shed their best,

To wait with patient eagerness...

To view Spring's lovely new green dress;

And share the warmth of her caress.

 

Ah, my Lady Primavera,

All Earth's creatures wait and yearn.

The grasses green, and leafy fern

They too await for your return.

 

Yet, I, myself, am eager not.

A weathered plaque has marked this spot.

A carved stone in a far off land

Keeps me down with it's heavy hand.

 

Folks pass by, they bend and peer,

They check the name, they check the year.

Some may utter a prayer or two.

Others will merely pass on through.

 

I miss the gentle summer rains.

I miss the warmth a sunrise brings.

I miss the child within your eyes,

As rainbows danced in rain-drenched skies.

 

I mostly miss your sweet caress.

Your lips...I've kissed with tenderness.

Your touch...oh yes, your magic touch.

Your eyes so green, I miss so much.

 

Ninety-nine springs have passed since then.

A bullet from a foreign gun

Had changed our dreams...our destinies,

And brought for you much pain and tears.

 

Still, I  recall your sweet, sweet voice.

An oath which made my heart rejoice.

An oath you made on bended knee,

A sacred oath, my Anna Lee.

 

 

Those promised words, I'll hold you to.

That solemn phrase you swore so true;

”We'll meet again, my darling Sean.”

Were it but true...those words long gone.

 

Were they mere words cast to the wind?

Wind, now blowing without rescind 

O'er these flowers adorned in red.

Alas, reminders I'm still dead.

 

In Flanders fields where poppies blow...

Fields now covered in pure white snow.

Quiet ones repose, not stirring,

All do wait for Spring's returning. 

 

 

 

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Publication Date: 12-23-2013

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