SUMMER
Autumn?s leaves falling,
seasons passing,
nothing changing,
winter?s silent somber still the same,
but brisk coldness can?t become our game.
Inhaling,
forgetting we are living,
awaiting the blossoms of spring
as the nightingale knowingly sings
a tune of promise,
a comforting solace.
? 2005
seasons passing,
nothing changing,
winter?s silent somber still the same,
but brisk coldness can?t become our game.
Inhaling,
forgetting we are living,
awaiting the blossoms of spring
as the nightingale knowingly sings
a tune of promise,
a comforting solace.
? 2005


