`buona sera cottongrass

buona sera translation is 'good evening'....

She said buona sera to her tears

like flowers in a chill'd wind

       they made her shiver

  frozen mind in her heart's quiver

forgave the bloom that wilted

         guilty kisses that withered,

buried her spirit 

under a bed

           of tundra's cottongrass

she knew, 'none of it was true'

~ last dying thought in the

                     pretense of love

Author's Note

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Feigned love, a bidding to tears good night, possibly a betrayal in the atmosphere of the piece, courtesy of the other party . . . The shattering reality of everything dawning upon your speaker is breathtaking in the amount of misery that would ensue, and the attitude with which your speaker greets her sorrow is enticing, as she seems to have expected it, somewhat, in some way. Anticipated that the love would be revealed as nothing but a hoax and acting accordingly . . . Lovely poem, Frieda.

[Frieda P]

Thanks for your in-depth review Tai, you always read me so well...muchly appreciated...

[gabrielle]

sigh... It's difficult to welcome pain but sometimes there's nothing we can do but to accept it.. this is beautifully written Frieda.

[Frieda P]

Indeed, alas acceptance can be so hard, thanks so much gabrielle.

[Matching Socks]

So beautiful Bella. Just a beautiful flow, full of grace.
A feeling of simple meloncholy.
xx

[Frieda P]

Grazie mille bella, jazz'd you enjoyed this one...baci!

[Matching Socks]

Very much. :) xx