September hurried by,
sweeping summer away
much too soon,
with it my dreams,
And as the wind
gathers up the spoils,
golds, crimson reds
to it's chilly breast,
those born in spring
laid at winter’s feet;
and harvested fields
feeling a mocking kiss;
Yet I will hope,
for dreams are known
to resurrect,
yet if not
I’ll be like the fading leaf,
buried not under marbled epitaph,
but under laughing children.
a small part in the big picture
A contest entry
- Pick Words Like Flowers Quickie (48 hrs) by poet2angels.
475 points, ended September 27, 2008, 13 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I love this...
Such a kiss of Summer lying in a dream not faded....
This is magical like love and nature joining hands..
Ty for entering
Lynda
-
Very well written, September is a strange month but your discription in metephor was right on. I loved how you ended on a positive note.
-
September can be cruel. Sorry about your dreams. Maybe they will resurrect.
Joe
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