The Woods - A Small World
Dr Abe V Rotor
Kissed by the sun to mellow,
Orange, red, and yellow;
Old and tired the leaves all bound,
Will soon fall to the ground.
They make the forest alive;
All kinds soon to arrive;
Under the trees in retreat,
Forms a carpet beneath.
The smell of death is around,
And rebirth without sound;
In the light and warmth of sun,
Touching the sleeping one.
It wakes up to the first rain
Pushing its way to gain
A place among creatures all -
Response to Nature's call.
The bridge of life and death is short,
Yet its link is like fort,
To preserve the generations
As they come and go forth. ~
No comments:
Post a Comment