September

POSTED IN contemporary poetry September 1, 2018

September

Sometimes,
in the end of September
when leaves are crying
in the wild wind,
lonely on shore
I remember you.

Life has many ways
and there is nothing to say.

Running on sand
early in the morning
I am only waiting
The sunrise.

Another day will comes
and I know
that I will love you
forever.

Anonimous