sundown,
color drenched mountains,
new budding trees
reach out to touch.
just a hint of coolness,
the distant smell of woodsmoke.
people pass in a hurry,
all headed home.
and so we are,
at sundown and waiting.
remembered in color,
forgotten by touch.
hurrying after
a scent in the distance,
all headed home...
all headed home!
After been out all day theirs no better feeling than getting home. Great poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There are many common experiences of life which pass unnoticed...but poet's thinking can make an ordinary routine a special thing like...sundown n all headed home...