She just said a few words
with a gentle smile
as if she wanted to apologize
for being sad and hopeless.

But you had taken an oath!
He reads your closed lips.
He sees the light in you,
and he will give you a sign!

Those we have lost
did not lose us.
Those who are gone
live deeper than we do.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration: Girl on a Park Bench (Charle Blackman, 1961)

Last Sunday we had
a walk in Madrid,
I saw a sea of roses
and many birds above

and a violinist writing in the air
flawless poems from the heart
and a woman painting with grace
the cruel colors of life.

But they did not amaze me.
The wound bleeds.
It hurts.
Nothing can give me solace.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The garden looks so sad.
There are red petals
from blown poppies
on the grass.

I feel so bad:
I lost a friend
killed at night
by a neighbor’s cat.

Black and white treasure.
Little baby magpie
fallen from the nest,
please be our guest again!

Oh my Teacher Bird!
Grief!
There is no other word
for it!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Black & White Treasure – © 2017– F.G.M.