Constant. Poem by Amanda May Moore
Constant.
From green, to red, to yellow, to brown.
as the leaves fall to the ground.
The light grows pink, to red,
until everything is dark overhead.
God covers us in a blanket at night
and the next day He gives us new light.
and so the baby bird learns to fly,
another one is on it's way to die.
There are many questions presented
Change is to come, it cannot be prevented.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 5:43:55 PM # 1.0.0.1119
