Pathos
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes,
Often Wondered.....
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
A pathos lurking underneath the saddest smile, she told me...
The flute was the only thing she had of her brother,
who, in their childhood, played music when she sang,
He passed away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
The other one clung to the tiny piece of memory he left..
A Symphony Of Love!
FIRST PLACE
Edited " Last Sigh" on September 24, 2021
For "P" Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
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