. . . . . .  
 
 
 
15/12/2016
FUTURE OAKS


The weather has changed.

My season – winter - is here.

The leaves of memory fall,

Leaving life's branches bare.

 

Simultaneously your green spring

Sprouts new shoots, dawns fresh morns.

Through you can Nature bring

Future oaks from young acorns.

 

8.12.16

 

 
15 December 2016
 
All Poems
 
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