Sometimes we are too busy to see the seasons of life come to an end.


When The Goldenrod Blooms

At sunset, when the day's breeze
Lay's low and the star's begin their shimmer,
Your voice comes into view, as though
The years reversed their solemn course.

Summer came to rest on my shoulder,
And, I never knew it was there.
The darkness arrives quicker this September
As if to say, "where have you been" all year?

The baseball game is over, football is here!
But, when the goldenrod blooms it's nodding head,
The brightest moon is masked in teardrops,
And the melody of life longs for yesterdays.




Poetry by Morpheus
Read 544 times
Written on 2009-09-04 at 03:54

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Doreen Cavazza
Nice! Mellow with just a hint of sadness.
2009-09-13


shells
Loved that line "summer came to rest on my shoulder," I will enjoy the changing season, thanks for the reminder, beautifully written with a touch of humour.
2009-09-04


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Aye , the seasons change , mark by the change of sports. Confusing can rule , with football being played , while cricket games still being played , pigeons I see picking up nesting twigs , are they as confust as me!
A lovely poem , morf.
2009-09-04