Brooding Grief

 A yellow leaf from the darkness 
Hops like a frog before me. 
Why should I start and stand still? 

I was watching the woman that bore me 
Stretched in the brindled darkness
Of the sick-room, rigid with will 
To die: and the quick leaf tore me 
Back to this rainy swill 
Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me.

Email Poem |