Doves
Another day
And here I am.
Before
an open window
I linger.
Hope the doves
come home,
Back to their shelter.
Down and out,
My old acacia and he is sad!
Loosing them
a cordial bosom,
Without doubt,
The old Acacia and lasting thing
will shy and simply will wither
and simply will die.
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
Please Comment On This Poem
|
|
|
|
|
oldmedina |
|
|
|