As crispy whispers rattle on a dry autumnal breeze
vermillion, gold and orange trinkets gild effusive trees
that soon will have to scrawl their thoughts across a chalky sky
with naked limbs that seek the song of spring to rectify.
Are You Reading Me?
filled with rich imagery and word painting...thanks for sharing.
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Wonderful poem but the last line seems a bit jarring to me.Not that I know anything of prosody. Just a thought.Hope you won't take it otherwise.
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