Is It Poetry (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)
in a snow bank-forgotten
Leaves are forgotten to him.
The forest, The tree, The spring.
During one storm that comes
a flower was forgotten,
never forgotten was the fire.
That in the past l sleep with;
Let it be forgotten forever,
time is a pleasant friend,
it will return to us when we are old.
Long stems forgotten and a long time ago,
Like red flowers, fire,
and each step lost in a snow bank-forgotten.
Comments about this poem (in a snow bank-forgotten by Is It Poetry )
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