Oct 27

Autumn reflections

of broken bones
both young and old
and fall leaves dusty breath
atop the plain
of earthy face
lanterns light to catch
of shadows revealed
and creepy sounds
that houses play in the night
The autumn waits
while winter steals
the rest of her soft bright.
a darkness falls
that none can hear
but oh how they miss the light

 
About the Author: LadyMidnight
"There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway
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