trees skirting sea shore
leaves turn to yellow gold
lots reach ground today
reflecting cool sun rays
to my cold reddish face
as i walk wooden steps
leaving sand-filled footsteps
to dry with passing ticks of time
to be blown back to sea by wind
just like me i'm walking homeward
unknowing which will come...mystic
i love it, , , you and me could predict
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem