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Shadows in My Own Rhyme

here is the cloud shadows ran outside the window, sucking the dewy liquid air, not resist, what is called today? never falling into the sky, the green memories, grazed to the flat lands, once on the edge of the memory, the hunt for is almost over, only be a voice murmur, singing in uncertainty, the wind always blows deliver the weather news, his voice barely audible, crying is just a trickle of water that soaks the window, 'when would you arrive? ' sit in the center of indecision, the wind kept blowing, silent window, shadows recorded on this poem.

1991

poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
Added by Poetry Lover
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