In The Gheisha Lands Poem by james watkin

In The Gheisha Lands



That little bell, each holds up
Of little bird sound!
Soft tones, where cherried winds
Blossomy, abound.

Bright, brittle speech; out blurred shapes
Piny green, low hung.
As enchanting heard, coy rain's
Misting; to them clung.

Saturday, September 1, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: love,nature
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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