WINTER her final Spring
in bed ridden fashion
such life fiercely battled
Industriousness bought
through pain and tears
Through force of life
and broad strokes of art
travels she made
upon creative youth
And Death spoke, assuredly
but crept in delicate fear
and begged a pardon
— a release of guilt
Her flower withered…
but not from existence
a pollination across hills
to the fields of other-there
:: 01-29-2014 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 