September, oaks.
Though I see sparkles of amber,
The mighty oaks in September
Are fresh, as if in June they’d left,
As if they’d become quite deaf,
As if they couldn’t see bird flocks
Flying south with sad talks.
nimal dunuhinga
Nice poem as alaways iver! Where're the birds? Gone with the wind it seems.
Nice poem as alaways iver! Where're the birds? Gone with the wind it seems.
yelena
A beautiful picture of amber sparkles and birds flying south appears in my mind..Thanks for sharing, Konstantin.
A beautiful picture of amber sparkles and birds flying south appears in my mind..Thanks for sharing, Konstantin.
carol
nice flow here
nice flow here
the last time i read a poem of yours was a comedy... well this is one is not... anyway, this one is sad and like a painter, you have painted on the canvas what you feel and what you see... keep it up sir... nice write