Little about the oaks
walk around trees of fire
mist and dust surround your feet
silence whispers in your ears
thought is lost in plain sight
steps of grass follow your way
no soul around to speak
the land is rich and murmurs forward
calling, weeping to be given
..in those grey days
no sun nor clouds nor sky
mountains lay bare melding the horizons
where is ahead is what lies before
borders and lines flee the mind
for in those grey days
trees are seeded
the oaks come in the grey days
to grow and live awaiting the sun
Author: Tsvetelina Tomova
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