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Perfume of the Fall
 
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In the dead silence of the lonely time

A pallid leaf seals the season's rhyme

A verse with flame and chill has begun

And the rhyming epilogue, a lemon sun


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A rustling leaf, the downfall so brief

The sound breaks like a chocking grief

The trees that shed, the blazing tears

Patient, waiting a closing end of fears..

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Despite the temper, despite the mist

Even when we have a feeling's twist

Autumn will still burn his poetic fire

Still entrances an errant poet's desire

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Along the river for long, still flowing

An edgewise walk; leaves scattering

The pine forest's perfumes spinning

Embalm the dead spirit of the season

By poetsword

© 2019 poetsword (All rights reserved)

 

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