Autumn
The autumn days have come
The night is chilled and the owl hunts
Legs are heavier, feet grow numb
A listless weariness confronts.
Welcomed sleep is more invasive
The future less of interest than the past
The trees with brilliant color persuasive
The moment filled with finishing surpassed
Acorns lie under the lighting struck oak
Leaves blanket them quietly in wet
And do not their souls provoke
Survival is to not forget.
An old man sleeps beside a fire
Smoke rises, warm darkness invites.
There is nothing more to aspire
Than to see the cold winter nights.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.