Straight, then in a loop as they go by,
poor leaves brittle they become when they die.
Listen as they wave still clinging on firm,
watch in the wind as they twist and they squirm.
Shiver a little feel of the cold in the air,
with them in the moment the season you share.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 1st, 2025 10:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This one is lovely both in the literal sense and as a metaphor. It rocks a fave
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