The leaves toss round
your airy head
and confused
by the things you've said
they fall out
of the branch's grasp
to the ground
in piles fast
Go jump in
and bury yourself
where they've fallen
if you can tell
In Autumn Town
you check the power
forgotten in colors
and in hours
and do entreat
our simple minds
to the complexities
you somehow find
in the task
that should be easy
wasting our time
in ways unpleasing
(July 22nd, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
