In yellow leaves,
you lie laughing,
pink from the morning chill.
Leaves swirl about you,
obsessed golden moths
fluttering about your clothes;
loving the light of you.
I know my winter is coming;
full of cold, gray ashes,
sleeping earth.
But you are so beautiful,
so bright.
You make this last harvest,
sweetly divine.
Heaven, I believe--
will be a memory of you,
rolling with childish glee
among the dying autumn leaves.
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
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Regis
it's the leaves that make the shot
you may think that it's a fable
but the leaves are what is not.
Ron