It gives no inch but
to be haunted by the wry, hued leaves;
to so cross paths with the winter lord
and summer sorcery,
casting canopy pastel and with magic,
dark.
Dark nuances that fit inappropriate.
To lay bareback. To rest and to flee
from the rigid caress of sight,
just to encounter the bare
and tapering girth, when east glees;
all to stroll through yesterday's tallness
below my heels.
Oh, for the crossing to be over.
For if they never crossed paths;
they held steer in tandem, parallel.
But then, I would never have known
what this foliage would have been;
If Oh, Autumn! did not hold contempt.
-Ney
YOU ARE READING
Oh, Autumn!
PoetryThis is a poem that encapsulates the idea of autumn, bereft of corruption. In the jolly of a conversation with a dear friend, she asked me to write about autumn. I did. This poem is dedicated to her. Hope you enjoy this piece :)
