Finding without searching,
a few old books you left me
in which you dried
the flowers that we picked.
They died between the pages,
every fragile petal
becoming dust and rot,
as I find that you loved me,
that you have loved me not.

Comments on: "Found" (15)

  1. This one is near perfect. Brava!

  2. Very poignant and beautiful.

  3. Hi Libby, thank you!

  4. A very fine poem indeed. This reminds of poetry by Sharon Olds in Stag’s Leap…one of my favorite poets.

  5. This is wonderful! My kind of reading! I love it!

    L&H xx

  6. The powerful reality of yes and no…

  7. Simply perfect! XO

  8. Thank you 🙂 xx

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