as if it going for the rain forest.
The green grass of greenfield has turned brown
but I keep waiting.
It about to be there but not yet.
The tree of oakhill has darken
but It not dark enough to be green.
The grave has disolving in people mind
but I am still waiting there.
My brother and sister still sleeping
but I hoping for spring to come.
The pupil of the oak has sprang from ground.
I flew out through the open gap
and set free.
2 comments:
Do you like love writing poems? I used to write poems all the time but now it's kind of getting on my last nerves. Every time I think of something I feel like I have used it before. Everything sounds so hackneyed. However, yours are very original!!!
when, i write this poem. I was thinking about spring and how the bird is sleeping.
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