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"defoliated" poems
Autumn ends, Leaves start falling, Defoliated, Scattered on the ground, Different shades of yellow and green, The colors so vibrant, Fruits almost ripe, And trees not so shady, Time flies by and then come winters. The lonely dark nights, The cold winter breeze, And swirling of the wind, Afar the fields and meadow I see only fog, In this black misty weather, Droplets rise from the dew grass, In the farthest range I see only shadows, Shadow of trees, The incandescent light in the street dimly illuminated, Strolling down the path, I try to keep from stumbling, A path so vague, Without a torch I see no survival, The foxes come and wipe the quietness, The sound of grasshoppers synchronized, Winter is coming, to be precise.
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Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
arfah-afaqi-zia
The coming of winter
Autumn ends, Leaves start falling, Defoliated, Scattered on the ground, Different shades of yellow and green, The colors so vibrant, Fruits almost ripe, And trees not so shady, Time flies by and then come winters. The lonely dark nights, The cold winter breeze, And swirling of the wind, Afar the fields and meadow I see only fog, In this black misty weather, Droplets rise from the dew grass, In the farthest range I see only shadows, Shadow of trees, The incandescent light in the street dimly illuminated, Strolling down the path, I try to keep from stumbling, A path so vague, Without a torch I see no survival, The foxes come and wipe the quietness, The sound of grasshoppers synchronized, Winter is coming, to be precise.
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