Why is winter called season of death,
When autumn is doing all killing?
What starts as shades of flame
Ends with every color fading
And nature without it’s breath.
The cruelest time of the year
Its sky a dark gaze,
Its wind a wet whip,
No beauty left to praise.
No birds left to hear.
Only dornes and the cold are spared
For the most tormented of souls,
Still find warmth in its embrace.
Hearts with the deepest holes,
Meant only by autumn to be repaired.
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Author:
rhmn_7 (
Offline) - Published: December 21st, 2022 19:39
- Comment from author about the poem: On the last day of autumn...
- Category: Nature
- Views: 56
Offline)
Comments2
a memorable read it is..
Very glad you liked it!
Love this Poem especially the first two line! Amazing
Questions are always a strong start, thank you for the comment!
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