Deer
In the snowing trail,
I met a deer, a white-tailed deer.
In front of me, she stood still, and
just stared at me for a while.
My mother was looking at me
without a word
in the last days of her life;
Her eyes were in the deer’s eyes.
Something close to tears or crystal
remained as some sad stories untold
between the deer and I.
Snow, cotton-like snow,
falling, falling from the heaven
was covering my mother’s grave site
as the winter blanket.
The world is quiet, silent and soft.
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