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This this will it always be, and why To ever argue for: here walking In its life, or sprawled, or loitering Down shallow valleys of the lawn: The trees that are there The pigeon bobbing through Its fallowgray ellipse of ground— The comfort of this ground Is physical: the sun Goes through your shirt…
Summer is fading: / The leaves fall in ones and twos / From trees bordering / The new recreation ground. / In the hollows of afternoons / Young mothers assemble / At swing and Featured Charts...
Summer is fading: The leaves fall in ones and twos From trees bordering The new recreation ground. In the hollows of afternoons Young mothers assemble At swing and sandpit Setting free their children.
1 The cyclamens have a hard time breathing in July. The sun ravages them and earth is too dry. Still, try remembering March light and the tight deep-buried bulbs that somehow do not die. 2 The children are scattered like weeds. The children are scattered dust-colored dirt-covered like weeds. Mid-summer grey reigns, and rain exists not...
9 lis 2004 · Guest poem submitted by Anita: ( Poem #1558 ) Afternoons Summer is fading: The leaves fall in ones and twos From trees bordering The new recreation ground.
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Summer is fading: The leaves fall in ones and twos From trees bordering The new recreation ground. In the hollows of afternoons Young mothers assemble At swing and sandpit Setting free their children. Behind them, at intervals, Stand husbands in skilled trades, An estateful of washing, And the albums, lettered Our Wedding, lying Near the ...
