deepundergroundpoetry.com
Leaves of Autumn
A poet’s heart is broken by life,
it bodes my sleeping heart to
wake and sing; a winter’s child
is burning with the aurum leaves
in breath of the emerald nights;
contrary to all predictions, he is
most polite, and I am doomed
to fall in love with autumn until I die.
it bodes my sleeping heart to
wake and sing; a winter’s child
is burning with the aurum leaves
in breath of the emerald nights;
contrary to all predictions, he is
most polite, and I am doomed
to fall in love with autumn until I die.
Published 12th Sep 2014
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likes 6
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comments 8
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12th Sep 2014 5:05am
12th Sep 2014 7:41am
12th Sep 2014 7:27pm
a fine harvest...
although also a time of
decay, a most contrary
season, autumn...
although also a time of
decay, a most contrary
season, autumn...
Autumn has always been my favorite; the spectrum of color and the marked deficits from spring. Much like autism itself its viewed as an affliction; the absorbed mind and lack of responsiveness. But this isn't entirely true. There is much being said in silent communication throughout nature. Views are clearer and so much more absorbable when the sun shines through for the observable few who wish to see the spectacular responsiveness of a beautiful autumn day... I love the season of fall, but then I'm going to grumble a little because its so chilly outside tonight..:) A quote that I love to hear: "Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." ~ George Eliot
13th Sep 2014 3:06am
13th Sep 2014 8:29am
13th Sep 2014 6:55pm
