White Season
when it starts shearing clouds
beauty brids ready for wedding
wear their white clothes
all of swallows taking summer’s hand
leave their cozy land
frightened frogs
dive in depth of dark
guilty gloomy sun
imprisoned by the fog
rusty red roses
die by end of night
silent dead village
close to end of light.
This poem was written/submitted by Banafsheh Khazaei.
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