UNA FLOR ENTRE LAS MANOS
La flor su pena esconde,
tendida en la solapa gris,
flor de tu gala infeliz,
que era feliz en los montes.
Ha vuelto la espina empuñar,
desde alto junco la flor,
y allá un soplido invasor,
quebró su tallo al pasar.
Qué ha de celebrar la mano,
que vasto buqué prefiere,
ignora la flor que se muere,
de tristeza en falso ramo.
Muda promesa de amor,
al aire nupcias deshojan,
fúnebres duelos arrojan,
a la húmeda fosa la flor.
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Autor:
Syol * (
Online) - Publicado: 19 de enero de 2026 a las 00:21
- Comentario del autor sobre el poema: ...uno de mis primeros versos..\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\r\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\n
- Categoría: Sin clasificar
- Lecturas: 1
Online)
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