The Stained Glass Forest
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Oh, the forest whispers to me,
as stained leaves on the ground crinkle;
and birds chirp and trill in a tree,
but too soon those leaves will wrinkle.
As I walk the wind groans and moans,
oh, the forest whispers to me;
soon the branches will be bare bones,
the crows cawing is like a plea.
Squirrels chirrup running with glee,
through the leaves that swirl, twirl and dance;
oh, the forest whispers to me,
the beauty puts me in a trance.
A stream that gurgles and thunders,
and ducks still quack and float carefree;
so many sweet scenes and wonders,
oh, the forest whispers to me.
_______________________
October 16, 2021
Poetry/Quatern/ The Stained Glass Forest
Copyright Protected, ID-10-1397-695-16
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Onomatopoeia
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 11/13/2021
Fourth Place
Poem of the Day October 18, 2021
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2021
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