In The Dead Of Autumn
In the golden beauty of the mours
That sickles left drying in the sun
And the wrinkled face of trembling pools
That the cold winds caress at chilling dawn
Autumn sighs in low breath on the lawns
Where the scared birds dare not try to perch
And the lake moans from the whipping winds
While the clouds scud in autumnal dirge
Sad beauty of Autumn kaleidoscope
Sun-burnt leaves from dying trees,now they drop
Down to the earth where dewy plants do creep
As the crows find bare escapes on the top..
Burnt in the haze,of short lived spell in FALL
A silent fair from dismal sounds is born
It's autumns' dumb voice that had missed to call
That the season of grief is meant to warm
From dark sienna to burnt-umber,are hues
Of such canvas weaved sadly through the times
Blazing evens,moaning winds,make the blues
For a man with heart to dip into rhymes
By truefeeling
© 2011 truefeeling
(All rights reserved)
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