Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
All the new flowers have gone.
I see flocks of birds flying away,
The waters, tear blue mountains,
Fall, rush and scold, are running
Cold— wind, whispers and goes,
Lonely as a tree without leaves.
Seán Mac Falls
Written by
Seán Mac Falls  Éire
(Éire)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems