Between the Grates
by Frank Watson
I kneel in the garden;
A child watches
Between the grates
With tears in her eyes.

Life is fleeting,
Without mooring
From the undercurrents
That carry our love.

And in my burning veins
I smell the sweet aroma
From an open window—
She waits from far away.




All writings and translations are Copyright © by Frank Watson, also writing as "Blue Flute" (2011-2014).
Year: 
2013