Poetry

Where we gather for love making
That is suspended in autumn season;
The suesided season busy in destroying
The beautiest nature into ugliest with no reason
Like no reason you went a far
And soul sank in sever and pain
To call and to meet you made a bar
My attempts were to get you all vain.
As you departed, Bulbul and cookus immigrated
And the rethem of life is hunted.