Monday, November 2, 2015

Leafing through the book of seasons


Life gone, but colorful, they
Elegantly drift down in
Autumn,
Veritable whispers of
Eventual
Spring.


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1 comment:

laura grace weldon said...

I've heard their whispering, but now I know of what they whisper. I won't forget it or this lovely poem.

November 4, 2015 at 6:44 AM

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