BluestoneReview

Ueno Park By Teresa Kestner A thousand fragile blossoms blanket me in white on the bench in Ueno Park. The breeze carries them, as paper lanterns on the water; swirling in the temple courtyard, tumbling over stone and grass…

On the Death of My Father

By Teresa Kestner The mind retreats Thoughts scatter Memories fade Speech slurs The body loosens its grip As eternity beckons.

dancing little butterflies in the late evening sun.

The Dormant Tree By Teresa Kestner

Stripped bare – shivering against the cold, Standing on the icy ground, feet dug in for warmth; Nature turns her cold shoulder away – no remorse. Its bare hand reaches upward for the last warm ray of embrace. Hollow eyes stare into the frosted sea of nothingness. Loss of its crowning glory that fell to the ground, Now no dignity for this child, forgotten on this winter’s day. Father sun has moved away, mother rain has turned to icy daggers Against this abandoned one.

Icy breath on its frozen frame of shame; Mocked by winds, taunted with isolation… No birds sing, no creature stirs.

Just sleep to pass the days. Reunion is far, far away.

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