The gilded dream of autumn's breath
embraced by winter's frozen kiss
on the stage of summer's death
and given forms that our hearts enlist
Here in dark and quiet seats
we watch the falling sky of white
and these lovers as they meet
Two seasons passing in the night
Moments as close as these seem rare
even to angels and all who surround
Warmest days with skies so fair
find the coldest nights all around
Yet as the branches newly bare
cling to axioms of shorter days
the world pretends quite unaware
and forgets these winter ways
(November 30th, 201)
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...
