By Pavel Chichikov
You wait too long – come to the garden,
Who can she be, the ripened rose
One more rose – a thorny stem
But no one needs the rain of autumn
Who can she be, woman of sorrows
She stands with the patience of falling rain,
Dry and yellow grass her throne
Her azure robe reflects the willows
Easy to see – but no one sees her
She comes when promised, unpromised too,
Deep is the ocean of her blue
Small is she – and no one sees her
But now she's there for all to see
Waiting beneath the one bare tree
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)
