Oscar’s Grief

I hear the river

rushing to the sea

onwards always,

splashing over hidden rocks

and weirs,

foaming down the falls.

I tread the river path,

smell the warming earth

and grass. Wild flowers

compete with lilac’s

nodding heads and

sweetest hawthorn

These things which Oscar mourned,

shut away from light and air,

more precious in his mind

than freedom.

10 thoughts on “Oscar’s Grief

  1. Your poem went straight to the heart, Elizabeth. Until I read your comment, I didn’t realize that it was inspired by Oscar Wilde. I had the image of someone housebound by illness or infirmity.

    Liked by 2 people

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