The Despondent One Poem by james watkin

The Despondent One



Every wind, it seems blows wild;
And colder in its blowing
Who leafed, ready to fall feels
A tree's pleasant green within.

If long enough, so dead hung
To life what's left expecting?
World's springly mood, Love's sung out
Mistrusts, morose-aspecting.

Sunday, July 26, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: sad
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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