Fall
The end of summer’s caress bears the mantle.
It is shed to bare my skin to the autumn chill,
that tickles my spine.
Swathed in the glory of lamb's wool,
to comfort against the death of the sun's rays.
Borne witness by the lifeless maple leaf,
crunching beneath my feet.
As the passing of so many seasons have been witnessed before,
So shall she pass, with reluctance; fall.
That the gnarled hand of father winter,
shall take into his grasp the fragments of autumn's past.
When the end of autumn’s caress will bear the mantle,
and that mantle is shed to bare my skin to the winter frost,
that stiffens my spine.
Swathed in the glory of silky down,
To comfort against the death of autumn's caress.
To leave me with the reluctance of her passing;
fall…
|
|
| Views: 82
Email This to a Friend 
