The days crawl by like
tortoises.
My purpose is obscured by
vodka nights, and
raven-haired sadness.
Naked branches of
the maple trees dance in
the autumn wind, and
leaves rustle in
the dead grass;
all burnt orange and yellow ocher.
They're like a
little surreal sunrise.
Hope
is eternal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poignant and sad poem, can feel your loneliness intensely through your words. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn
Thank you Roseann