My First And Last Impression Poem by james watkin

My First And Last Impression



My first and last impression
Long stretches did occasion
Of time, that is a country's
Far smoky drift becalms;
Up through leaf, Autumn-tinging
When not for mushrooms' cringing
Poking, in nation deep-rooted
A war memorial's balms.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: autumn,country
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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