Fog Creeps In The Rubber Forest
and build a hill moments
on the corner
limp body in silence
is it not a time capturing the clouds?
marching into one sentence shrubs
rising in the morning on empty cans
are untouched since yesterday
the twisted bamboo baskets
silent on just one word
shrubs swaying
want to do?
does it build the wind gallery here?
the wind will soon collapse
between the sidelines of the tree
and flew my spirit
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
Added by Poetry Lover
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