Clothed In Beauty
J
James McLain
0
Altın Yaprak
Clothed In Beauty;
each chiseled branch
hangs full of fruit.
The silent observer bides
sweet time,
as those branches
hang too low.
The tips touch the fence
both side posses
an orb,
thats round and orange.
Only the wind decides
switched leaves,
when plucked by hand
Tonight the marble face
of the moon,
moves aside each branch.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş