We all change and get older, but our souls stay young...


A Birch


How are you, my birch?
Your bark is so white this morning,
and the leaves are gold and bedewed.
It was raining last night,
and, now, the sun is shining out of you,
and the children admire you.

How are you, my birch?
The weather got cold
and the leaves thinned.
But I am standing
in front of you equally
and looking at you
white and gracile.




Poetry by Dejan
Read 462 times
Written on 2006-11-09 at 10:32

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