This is a poem about the fall in my country (Bosnia and Herzegovina) after the war.


Fall


At sunrise clouds seemed
as though burning,
while the darkness was leaving them.

And the leaves seemed as though burning
until they, golden, fell
onto the ground.

A stone rolled down and
leaned onto the road.

A broken tree
stands without a voice
by the road.

A chirp spreads
and flies into the sky.





Poetry by Dejan
Read 462 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 15:33

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text