Our Clear Autumn
Our perfect August
Our lambent time
The hour, month, season
Hast thou passed so
Suddenly
Nay, in time
You have naught but slept
Wake now thee love
See how it has suffered
Under your euphoric spell
Comfort creates the nest
Complacency settles in
(…poem interrupted by life)
With Love
On Love
By Janet Jarrell
On Love With Love
ReplyDeleteMy autumn never ends
It rolls on beneath the pitter patter
of my wandering soul
Winter wretchedness will call
But I wake to realisation
And know my lost conciousness
And the misplaced feeling, that lost
The unending grass on my fingertips
And the sun on my face