by October 22, 2015 1 comment

Hold autumn close
When the sun strikes broadside
Reach into her heart of gold
One last moment

Plunder her golden orb
On the path of summer’s glory
A whispered lullaby
To rock cradle of sleep

October – on the outskirts of summer dreams
Drink deep the poem of autumn

editors note:

Live it. Write it. Be it. – mh clay

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