Maple, maple and the warm skies
A downfall that couldn’t be a demise
A clover leaf is petalled four again
And you’re just as incidental, as I am wise
I am grateful for every word you speak
My reasons to smile through the yellow woods’ deep
Maple, maple- their colours are a treasure
I have kept you longer than I planned to keep
Autumn sky is but a vacation of the hues
They leave and leave behind the blues
I have saved you like I save the maple leaves
Not all love in this world, can be put to a use.
-Al
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Author:
Alan R (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 26th, 2024 15:25
- Category: Love
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Oh? You think? If it warms and thrills even one soul, hasn't it been fitly put to use? For example, I love my car, kiss her even, yet she is not alive, but how I love her still. I dunno. Just thinking. This is lovely and fascinatingly rendered with an interesting rhyme scheme and excellent imagery, not to mention a subtly haunting poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
I agree, by “use” I meant how the society (or rather the voices in my head) seeks to link a purpose to every action…. I am a poet collecting fall leaves, I live far from those definitions of “use”… glad you enjoyed it, and thrilled that that haunt was visible, cheers!
You would have to be crazy not to love this entire page and its contents .. Bravo Alan .. Neville 🍁
Glad you enjoyed it!
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