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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
Tips On Writing Tips: Navigating Social Media’s Never-Ending Advice for
Writers
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Maybe ten years ago, I was golfing with my wife and her dad. Throughout our
round, my father-in-law, who’s an avid golfer, had been giving my wife
rando...
1 day ago
1 comment:
I love this poem! Wow. Especially the last stanza.
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