The air is crisp
And I am embraced
By winter chills
Which flood across the dales
Drawing all in their path
Mighty is the power of nature
As leaves swirl to their demise
And flowers shrug
A last note of life
Swept away by lingering thoughts
Of a summer spent enriched
By scented gardens and
Fields of corn as yellow as the sun
Icy paths trail to dawns
Lost in bone tingling frosts
Fingers numb and
Deadness surrounds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem