The Orange Rind Did Not Rhyme

Rusk, dye frost fall winds - wrinkled
Rush orange, not plucked - withered
As does ripe grapes, be dried, to raisins
Brazen apples, to lose volume, cave in.

Orange, does not rhyme, with yellow
But time take yellows onto light orange
Only to deepens onto red brown read leaves
That detach to blanket, as Leaves of Grass.

That what was, will always rust away orange
Faint yellow upon Walt Whitman Master Peace.
Develop miniscule cracks, amidst wind time pieces
That weathers, youth full faces, need for - face lifts.

Cold chill, shivers - skinny dipping limbs, in Polar plunges
Yet one looks, for that elusive orange rind, hanging on
But Newton, did take it away, gravitating on Father time
Alas thy will toast, Mother Nature, with Orange pulp rhyme.