Birds Flying
J
James McLain
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Fields of birds are gone, fumes of exhaust surround me.
I cannot see your window, the young are around me.
My door is left open, the sun grows cooler.
No wine to comfort me, I go to bed earlier.
My eyes water, thinking of you now gone.
Passion of flame, steel this concrete famed.
Gone are the arteries, now mud remains.
Bulldozers not of life, forsake the young and bury the old.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş