How sweet's
the gentle
melancholy
of cloudy
Fall days
after that
riot of passion
seizing
flesh and soul
in restless,
sultry breezes
all summer long.
And how sweet
is my gentle
melancholy
here, now in
the autumn of
my fading years.
Fall is my favorite time of year for exactly this reason. It feels like "bedtime" to me, that time when you slip into your slippers, sit by the fire and relax in the quiet reflection of the night. Great poem.
Cheers
Alain
Be always safe,
Karen