Scythe of a moon
swings, between tall
palm leaves.
Wanting to see
the midnight fall
of white snow.
Never felt the
sadness of cold weather
when flurries fly.
Leaves had
assembled at the
funeral of the moon.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: June 25th, 2019 21:32
- Category: Nature
- Views: 5
Offline)
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