Fleeting Dream
Just like other months
November passes like wind,
Like a passerby
As one leaves , you wait for another .
For me where i live ,
I dont know those marcid trees
Trying to loosen the dead's burden.
Nor the caruscating snow
Only the chills are what i feel
With hefty body and cold feet;
As awaits the morning fog.
Sleeping through most of it
Is what people do
And so it feels like a dream ,
Beautiful and so very brief .
YOU ARE READING
poeTRY (Volume 2)
PoetryFirst time Poems by our newest Pubbers. Our second Edition.
