Towards a window





turned towards a window
a pine

green and nice
in all seasons

nesting
a nightengale on a branch

sings
I listen

don't sing little bird
I sing a different song

I live in a scattered land
never dying heart on fire
my sorrow. my son. sorrow.

for-ever-fire in a soul
my greatest worry
has burned a sign in me





Poetry by ZARIFE DEMIR
Read 925 times
Written on 2010-02-10 at 18:35

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Beautiful imagery juxtaposed with heart-rending thoughts.
2010-02-11