Observations in Poetry and Pictures

On Suffering

Suicide Through Murder

I see spring in your eyes--
vast areas of green
swaggering offsprings
with touches of dew.

Then summer ablaze
and the harvest reaped.

With autumun,
the entwining
and the sweet melancholy--
moments of warmth
into tepid feelings
of a sun setting.

Then winter comes to your eyes,
and how clear this winter is
though your eyes are green.