The wind rustles through the leaves,
Blows in my hair.
And in the cool of noon ,
I sit upon a tree, and for awhile linger there.
Hush goes the willow,
Shh, goes the trees.
As I sit and listen to their songs,
Full of sorrow and memory.
Faint floral perfume in the air,
The the golden sun goes down.
And the curtain of night,
Folds over day.
Hush goes the willow ,
Shh, goes the trees.
As I sit and listen to their songs,
Full of sorrow and memory.
YOU ARE READING
The Beauty Of The Night And Other Poems
Thơ caPoetry that I wrote myself, Weaved in my mind. That no one else saw, For it was late when the inspiration came . But now there's more than just three, There here for you to read. And I hope that, You enjoy them all.
