Is It Poetry
Watching, Leaves Fall
The oaks are full of acorns
why the wind blows at this time of day
it is morning.
She I hear her magic voice
as it falls upon my ears.
Looking at all the old oak trees.
How many were here, when she was?
She is gone and they aren't.
Sara Teasedale knows now, why I love her.
Is It Poetry's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Watching, Leaves Fall by Is It Poetry )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Blackberry Pickers, Ruth Manning-Sanders
- The Lost Voice, akshaya shah
- The Soul And The Spirit Of The Race, Ruth Manning-Sanders
- my pair of pretty is all grown up, Mandolyn ...
- A Short Poem, Toshie Nohara
- The Lane, Ruth Manning-Sanders
- The gift, John F. McCullagh
- Metamorphosis, Patricia Grantham
- affix me to your infinity, Mandolyn ...
- One Entire Little Puzzle, RoseAnn V. Shawiak