Indian Summer
A concept eternal breathes,
Rustling the leaves of the wild forest night,
Indian summer is calling,
The men of midnight shadows await their time to fall.
poem by David Lacey

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A concept eternal breathes,
Rustling the leaves of the wild forest night,
Indian summer is calling,
The men of midnight shadows await their time to fall.
poem by David Lacey

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!