Fall.


Balding trees lace the grey sky of Fall.
Soft wet earth clods on meandering shoes.
Tiny feet stumble after a tumbling ball
Over moss caped rock, past thick green spruce.

Soft wet earth clods on meandering shoes
Running further unaware unafraid
Over moss caped rock, past thick green spruce.
The melody of the dimming day frayed.

Running further unaware unafraid
Through briar and bush, down slip and slide
The Melody of the dimming day frayed
By the Sun’s light; a weakened washed out tide.

Through briar and bush, down slip and slide
To find the ball caked in mulch, a spherical ghost
By the Sun’s light; a weakened washed out tide
Pulling back from the grove leaving her lost.

To find the ball caked in mulch, a spherical ghost
Glowing weakly with a fallen moonish pall
Pulling back from the grove leaving her lost.
Balding trees lace the grey sky of Fall.

Published by

The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

One thought on “Fall.”

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