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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
Steven Pressfield Ruined My Life: On Finding Balance as a Creator
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In *The Matrix*, Neo is given the choice between two pills. The red will
wake him up from the simulated world and bring him to the truth; the blue
will a...
9 hours ago
1 comment:
I love this poem! Wow. Especially the last stanza.
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