Poems About the Environment
Days like Rose's are not red to the color blind
I fear the long drive will end in tarnation and mess,
Days like Rose's are not red to the color blind
I fear the long drive will end in tarnation and mess,
Days like Rose's are not red to the color blind
I fear the long drive will end in tarnation and mess,
Days like Rose's are not red to the color blind
I fear the long drive will end in tarnation and mess,
waves of suspision splashed on the shore,
finding what truly matters always fathomed my mind.
Sunday's magic will soon unfold,
With books, tea, and fireplaces.
The sun glints through my reading hole,
As I walked along the street
I saw the shadow of a soul
Its heart was beaten, all I saw was dullness
A tomb of opportunities spent --
Wretched anguish fills my soul
At the sight of that ominous,
A flowery dowry
Is passed from the mother tree to her wistful daughters.
Petals fall in the morning dew.