Each and every deep wrinkle of her sad face
Tells a bygone story about the beauty.
The petals about to fall in the weary Autumn
And the boisterous wind begins its activity.
You cannot hold the storm Grandma!
Let the petals scatter into any direction likewise
But the root of the tree still strong enough
To grab the scorching earth.
Smile as the early summer days
And it's a gift indeed to the offspring Grandma.
Lovely title.The story of this flower is written in her face and on her soul. Very appealing.10, for her. Warm regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A magical piece about old age and decay and the everlasting nature of the human race. A profound and beautiful poem. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥