Deathly Crown…

Farewell to autumns golden days
her death call has been rung
and all the birds did offer up,
in silence: not a sound.
As winter embellishes her deathly crown,
so icy fingers grip the throats,
of those who dare, to stop and gloat.
With dreams waylaid, I assemble
amid my countless, empty schemes.
I hear the jarring voices of those who grieve
they tumble down, like fallen fragile leaves
scattered piles, decaying blown –
to such sadness – I’ve long accustomed grown.
Oh, how I cried, over beauty’s flight
cold winter days; temperate not my sight.



One thought on “Deathly Crown…

  1. I wish spring would arrive – still so barren out there.
    Did I perceive a drift toward rhyming?
    I love your flow, Poppy.


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