"acridness" poems
I remember spring-
My precious treasure of love
And sour acridness.
I revere my spring-
Full of wan doubts and revel-
In freezing autumn.
Don’t worry; I’m fine.
I am here to remember
My spring- my old time.
With heart in cache
And wilted rose in my heart,
I’m here without him.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 3:09 AM UTC