'Red'
Yellow leaves their fall impressions
Skipping 'cross the fields of once green
Turning orange in my reflections
The Dance
A crisp leaf dances ballet
Toe down upon the Earths brown mulch
A lively piroette dazzling golden
Winds Reflections
A whispered fall wind echos
While crackling bonfires warm our chilled ears
Remembrance 'tis no longer silent
Golden Touched
Midas touched leaves hop about
Falls crisp zephrs carry them to destination
Soon to be piles of red
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem