I have kissed the Autumn dawn
laughed at the blond of her lips
running beneath the orange finger-tipped red
half-moon, the vital breath
of silver summited dew glistening
on the stones of marble
the damp violets enslaving conclusions
of winter’s breath over the last butterflies
I have kissed the meadows of october
laughed at the clouds dissolving
through a pillar of the treasured-sun
running through the breeze against
the memories of a few dozen autumns
it all comes first circle as life dissolves
but beauty remains a poor man’s dream
it comes every Autumn like an old traveler
ready to submit to red and gold.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Home-is-where-the-love-is-403015730
“the damp violets enslaving conclusions
of winter’s breath over the last butterflies”
exquisite.
thanks elrond, I did find that phrase odd when it came to my tongue..
i like you for one thing
you make poetry deep-
nice choice of words
well I’m not certain Autumn is a very deep subject, but I try…
Lovely imagery.
yes my play pieces are mostly just that, imagery (the poor man’s poetry)
Wonderful watershed of awakened senses! Sincerely Debbie
I like that Debbie