oskar hansen


November Song - Poem by oskar hansen

November Song

No suitor knocks on her door
Her hair is white and uncombed
Children think she is a witch.

Once she had been the belle of
The royal ball, spurned lovers
In her perfumed air.

Old age came creeping, first
Slowly than rapidly… and know
She is quite forgotten.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, September 18, 2013


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