Too Late, Now, Too Late.

Just a tanka format.


A gift of flowers

lies unwanted as you weep

sour regret tears

for the love you let pass by…

 

Let me wrap them while you cry.

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sweetwater

As a lover of short poetry I enjoyed this very much, the last line could hold more than one meaning too. 🙂 Sue.

Bhi

What a great poem. If you are listening somewhere in the ether, Rick, I disagree with the last line; why would anyone want to wrap them when they have been presented as a gift and should have come wrapped, and why wrap them? to send them back?