The year passed,
flying by with its leaden feet.
The sun descended
and the marigolds faded.
The silver crone,
eyes flashing beneath her velvet veil,
covered the earth with her powdered poison.
As the year dies
and the frost makes limbs hang heavy,
she cackles in the wind.
Her life is long,
but she too fades.
The maiden wakes,
dusting the powder
from her golden hair.
Her hands extend with leafy fingers,
feeding earth as colors explode.
A year is gone,
flown away with its leaden feet.
Author notes
#1 in an untitled poem cycle I'm writing for my college creative writing class. Please comment!
Written November 9th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
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Good
This is good putting the season's in. Keep writing
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