The Fields Of Home Poem by David strong
The Fields Of Home
The fields of home lie empty
The folk are all abed
And while they lie sleeping
Winter rears his head
He creeps from mountains to foothills
Then onwards through the fields
And covers the sun in shadow
As the last of autumn yields
Now quiet coats the fields of home
As snow quickly moves to drown them
And cottages are left to huddle close
In fear now winters found them
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 11:51:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
