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Autumn leaves fly
in the wind, blow
across the land, crumble
under foot, and color
soil in shades alive.
Pages flutter,
as books are read,
folio all, tapestry
of words, sprinkle
silently across sight.
People wisp away
from our life, littering
memory with faint
remnants, crumbling heart,
and stalling soul.
© 2009 Lisa G. Beaudoin
Giving Thanks For The Writers At My Table
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On Thursday, most of us will gather around the Thanksgiving table with
close family and friends, expressing our gratitude for one another and the
thin...
8 hours ago
1 comment:
I love this poem! Wow. Especially the last stanza.
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