It is not the golden evening sun
on the green fields that bridles the
eyes of the lonely soul in February.
It is not the changing season
with its petrichor, light showers,
heavy downpour that bridles the
eyes of the lonely soul in February.
The ever scouting eyes of a
lonely soul sees bliss in February
It's all Illusion in February.
-Tolafola
Beautiful rendition of words. Lovely piece of poetry nicely encapsulated with insight. Thanks for sharing Tola and welcome to Poemhunter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great start with a nice poem, Tola. You may like to read my ars poetica named as (Poetic Sense-1) Thanks