• Rachael Waldburger

Old Aker Kirke

#poem #travel #Norway #Oslo #OldAkerKirke #poetry


At Old Aker Kirke

at half past eight,

a man put a rose

in the old iron gate.

He did not pause,

he did not wait,

he would stop,

could not be late.


The city woke,

the sidewalk filled,

and Oslo hummed;

the rose was still.


At Old Aker Kirke

at half past four,

the man walked by

the gate once more.

The rose was gone

like the day before,

like it would be tomorrow,

for this was war.



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