This autumn is dreamy,
with its sleepy woodlands.
The features are gleamy,
Just beauty, and vagueness.
All doubts will go out.
I'm recalling the past and
Again it may seem that
I'm getting inspired.
I see in magnificent and tender whirling
And singing of birds, so moving and turning,
My thoughts will continue to be so tormenting
As well as my path. I'm en route. And I'm adding
All what I have done in the image of wording
The outskirts of paths of the past I'm absorbing
And those hand-carved shadows, cast by the autumn,
Will still be in sight, increasing my upturn,
In its magic movement, the top and the bottom.
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Author:
cellinic (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2026 18:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 45
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Soman Ragavan, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS
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Comments3
Nicely metered this poem presents memories and reflections. Nicely done
Great job, my friend. That image of “hand-carved shadows, cast by the autumn” really struck me. It gives the season intention, as if memory itself is shaping the light. A beautiful, tactile moment and a wonderful poem. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
memories and inspiration both described beautifully here...
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