Memories


Memories of old England
moves the eye through woods
laid bare to November,
a frozen sea of naked hills
dares the thought to wander
deep into slender hidden valleys
of long lost summers.

Clean white water
is born like milk under stones
where feathery fern calls
and unseen birds sing
high in green shadows
of once a leafy grip.




Poetry by Bob
Read 594 times
Written on 2006-03-17 at 23:08

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Zoya Zaidi
Chalky cliffs looming large over the Sea,
Deep blue azure of the of the clear sky,
Red roses in bushes, chrysanthemums in glee,
Deep green woods of the Sherwood county!
Old England's nostalgia grips thee suddenly!

This is so beautiful!
(((Hugs Bendtch))))))
Love, xxx, Zoya
2006-03-18