Three Poems About Sorrow
III
People with age resemble stones
less sculptured
more and more of faded color.
Passing by among them
I get emotional as long as
I can help finish my day.
I pass, I hardly touch anything;
only the birds get startled
by the movement and
fly away to the blue.
I survive in compassion
dreams give me shivers
I feel numb.
And all my plans
turn into reality
what little choice I have
when I think of all
the shapes spring takes
all the possibilities of my birth
with little imagination!
Manolis 