early days ***** SEPTEMBER POEM
My hand is running as magic pen
when i write, September Poem
my heart is beating like a lyre
when I read each poem's line
The grasses are growing green
when I write, September Poem
hymn of birds singing with glee
Humming the written verse at tree
The soothing wind is coming from plain
when I write, September Poem
It blows softly 'round my ears
gives colors of the days
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
Added by Poetry Lover
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