Late November,trees still shed burnt leaves
They gently swirl and fly tossed on the breeze
The birds pretend alarm and fly about.
Play the flute and entertain no doubts
Burnt red
Published
Late November,trees still shed burnt leaves
They gently swirl and fly tossed on the breeze
The birds pretend alarm and fly about.
Play the flute and entertain no doubts
How my heart sings 