I am bit inquisitive of bees collect pollen
from the flowers swollen.
And they prepare for the coming Autumn.
A decayed old tree little embarrassed
And I inquire the reason.
'I am quite old dear and do you know the bitter joy of being an old?
Every year the cruel Autumn comes and snatch my poor innocent leaves
And I am certain this time I won't be able to face another spring again.'
Death and change do not spare anybody or anything. I just posted a poem few days back ' Away' and your poem appeared on side as poem of similar kind, of similar topic. Really beautiful. Glad to be able to read it.
Charm indeed. Sandra's right. Your old tree suffers from arthritis, methinks and something of the melancholy of old age. There is certainly something very endearing about him. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This one has its charm.I love your old tree. Very nice. Autumn is on the way. Always your friend, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very good. thanks for sharing