The Rising
As the sun dies and the warmth begins to wither,There is more than just this coming hither,
As if over night the leaves bleed an unholy red,
The once great trees that had once thrived,
They have all withered and begun to die,
Forcefulness of the winds take flight,
As its chill pierces skin with all its might,
As everything begins to die to redo its cycle,
People find happiness in the worlds recycle,
Bustling about the leaves and kicking the about,
People laughing at the cold getting to their snouts,
It may be the death of the Summer,
But Winter and snow is just round the corner.
Poetry by Khloe Brown
Read 629 times
Written on 2018-09-02 at 03:00
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Ann Wood |
|
ken d williams |
