the wind glides through her hair
as she neals down near the flowing river
her deep blue eyes tell the story of
what her mouth wont whisper
her eyes look deep as the tears silently runs down her face
as she walks along the riverside. she is surrounded by pure grace.
the trees whistle in a cool blowing breeze
while the water flows calmly down by her knees
the sun shines on her delicate skin
and she feels calm and wel again
M.CUNDILL
words filled with poetic images she is surrounded by pure grace. the trees whistle in a cool blowing breeze
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
great poem. i really like it xxx