As the leaves turn
scarlet, gold
wintry weather calms
my summer soul.
Smells of homemade
stews, hot rolls
Grandma chased
my blues away.
With him went my
heart scurrying alone;
my snow-storms showed
me the way home.
As the leaves turn me the way home. Author notesbasic metaphor...free verse preferred A contest entry
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
1 - 8 of 8
|
|
|
Our sites: Stories, Critical Poetry, Old Poetry, Quotes, Philosophy, Journals, Role-playing. © Social Design Poem History:
| |