August

August

A Poem by sasha

 

The grass and dry leaves rustle in the breeze, 
Into the garden fly the autumn bees.. 
The birch is whispering its sad song, 
A farewell to summer all night long.. 
It often rains in, there’s a hole in the roof, 
Against drafts a dressing-gown is no proof.. 
There is still time to fold the tennis net.. 
The smell of drizzly August morning one never forgets.

© 2013 sasha


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Added on May 12, 2013
Last Updated on May 12, 2013

Author

sasha
sasha

Munich, city centre, Germany



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