Posts
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
Getting Down to Business
-
[image: Densie Webb's column on the Business of Fiction]
AI is encroaching on pretty much everything, and it is increasingly felt in
publishing. Literary...
1 day ago
1 comment:
I love this poem! Wow. Especially the last stanza.
Post a Comment