When I died
Four princesses sat on my grave and cried.
The first was Princess Autumn, whose red tears
Were gentle in their falling.
Next was Princess Winter
Her tears heart-broken white crystal.
Third came Princess Spring
Each flowing blue-skied raindrop a song.
And last Princess Summer
And her tears each a sunbeam, so they were golden on my tomb.
When these four princesses had visited and wept their fill.
My bones at last were put at peace and rest there still.
Red, white, blue and gold
So is eternity foretold.
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Oh, crikey, Richard.
Do you get any of your work published?
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Thank you so much Simon.
I had been thinking about the seasons and poetry; and the Unquiet Grave.
This literally came out of the air though. I struggled to get it down quickly enough, as though I was taking dictation. I wonder if trying to write down a French poem I know (Paul Verlaine: "Les sanglots longues, Des violons...") triggered something. I'm interested in creative processes...