When the rain is brooding
the leaves hang low and heavy.
We take the path we see, is most clear
home blurs to a mirage.
The autumn tones blend
like people in a festival.
We stroll all in a dream
We depend on another's warmth
to keeping us going
like when huddled together
on a winters morning.
Published By The Writers and Readers Magazine 2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem