The falling leaf instilled in me
Like the dreamy seeping of morning tea,
A light so far removed from what I know
It seemed to leave.
I have since seen many leaves
Peregrinating gently to the ground
Arriving dumb on the earth
Without a sound.
Fevered by the last breath of August
The night crooned like a drunk
But loving mother to her child
And somewhere soft and glowing,
The leaves have piled.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment