deepundergroundpoetry.com
Falling Leaves
What strange messages
has autumn handed us!
They hold their branch,
by their withering root.
Once flushed in greens,
they fall, die, Indian gold.
Blanketing our solid grounds,
quilting our grey ways.
has autumn handed us!
They hold their branch,
by their withering root.
Once flushed in greens,
they fall, die, Indian gold.
Blanketing our solid grounds,
quilting our grey ways.
Published 8th Feb 2019
Author's Note
www.gothicsurrealism.com
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
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The author encourages honest critique.
8th Feb 2019 8:25pm
I love everything about this ... the wedded couplets ... the great line breaks ... perfect cadence ... killer closing ... this is what great poetry looks, sounds, and feels like ... exquisite ...
10th Feb 2019 5:16pm
