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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
What It Costs To Be Seen
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You probably became a writer because you loved books, not because you
wanted to be a full-time internet personality. Yet the prevailing wisdom in
publish...
4 hours ago
1 comment:
I love this poem! Wow. Especially the last stanza.
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