| |
On autumn's wings
the summer flies.
In waiting,
winter's cold breath lies,
to turn the cool, clear, autumn days
to winter's cold and freezing grays
not there in the warm, spring skies.
The days grow short.
The nights grow long.
A crisp breeze stirs.
I hear its song.
The childish laughter in the park,
the smell of jasmine after dark
are things that soon will fade away
when wild geese fly their southern way,
on autumn's wings.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|