Years Have Sped By

Poems

My Yearning
(To Hershl - In Memoriam)

How can fright from one's eyes be erased?

My pupils are still

by your visage overcast.

 

Then in the blink of an eye -- a muting . . .

It seems I hear you speak, but only to me . . .

Your last deep breath -- like lightning

streaks through my reverie . . .

 

Your yellow spring flowers

that you alone had sown;

I count them now, in early morning hours

of nineteen sixty seven . . .

It's for your, my beloved,

The flowers I've gathered!

 

I arise with a deep yearning . . .

and it's your flowers that I bear,

So early . . . oh so early in the morning,

tremblingly, to your earthen door . . .

 

All about lies motionless . . .

There's nothing stirring -- -- no ado -- --

Only the flowers in their vase

bow for you.