September Woes

Satish Verma

You pick up a homeless
word and weave
into a poem.

Suddenly it becomes
a dove, fluttering
in my heart.

I love them most,
the flying pods, carrying
unknown seeds.

White and red
I send you my summer
blues today.

The cottony cheeks
I blow the clean tears
away of a crying sky.

allets's picture

"a homeless word"

Nice ~Lady A~