When I Was Seven Poem by Melikhaya Zagagana
When I Was Seven
Smelt a field grass-
Pale brown in the windless sun;
there lie a thirsty river in the far end.
No channel of rats acquainted; -
Men abroad the forest with lost regard;
hanging tears of women and children-
no voices but a trace of pity on the surfaces.
And - i was seven...
Friday, May 30, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: children,river,voices,women
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8/5/2026 11:28:20 PM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
