Watching leaves shiver
from every hollow gust
I turned my back:
I felt as they did
withered in gold and silver lining;
Like destitute children
dancing upon the pavement
of cold streets...
Onlooking,
Just onlooking into the distance.
Where bereavement
is heavy on the brow
setting melancholy eyes
off into flight...
To perch on a branch
where there is an abundance
of unbitten fruit.
Ready to consume the seed...
Before they fall.
Your poetry has such feeling, 'Before They Fall' is no exception. Simply outstanding.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To perch on a branch/ where there is an abundance/ of unbitten fruit. Very nice.