Facts Of Being
R RoseAnn V. Shawiak
0
Altın Yaprak
Looking up into a tree, it's branches looking deadened,
scratching my eyes with their forlorn presence.
Taking away, thinking of their beauty once so much
appreciated, now hanging in the atmosphere, being seen
for what they now are.
To mind, they are still pretty in their deadened captivity,
touching an interior intellect, reminding of the same facts
that will one day touch my being with death.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş