First, you buy flowers. You love them so much you can’t seem to part. They sit in your living room, on your dining room table, on that hard-to-reach-but-totally-worth-it shelf in your upstairs bathroom where no one sees them but you and only when you’re in the tub. They sit so long that now a soft cough in the same room strips them of their petals. A politely closed door anywhere in the house. Now is time to carry them outside. And they fall apart, each pink petal adding to the story.
I came across this poem while on a recent walk, and if there’s one thing I like more than walks, it might be surprise poetry in the countryside. It also came as a surprise that my Dutch is progressing well enough for me to read it. Thank you to Hans Ridden, and thank you to the person who took her walk with a piece of laminated paper, a metal stick and a sledgehammer.
Then I sat on these chairs and watched a man fish.
Only 5 days down in the poetry promotion, and 28 poems already sold. Get your own surprise poem while they last: https://www.etsy.com/listing/165156186/custom-poem-for-25-cents-free-shipping?ref=shop_home_feat.
christine PS stocke 