deepundergroundpoetry.com

October

Iíve been down, tonight
At riverís edge,
Where the leaves of trees
Are growing gold;

And I wonder, to myself,
If Iíve any pledge,
To ask of those sentries
The task of growing old.
tell_me_wy
Written by tell_me_wy
Published
Author's Note
A very brief pen, mostly unedited. It may need work.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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