Colored leaves of Autumn's flair
Swaying their way down in despair
Northern wind, then, blows again
Carries them with palms of air
When such journey is in play
Nostalgia seeps into my days
I feel the cold wind of Misteer
And the blue eternal waves
Washing over me in full scale
Purifying my quill as it sails
Sharp yet flowing, making its way
To all that is a mystery
At the far end of the maze
© 2016
FOOTNOTE: 'Misteer' is a name of a natural area in my town. it's basically part beach part woods.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem