As trees lose their summer-time silhouette,
I slim, too—
Undone by Autumn,
Stripped into a colored frenzy
Of wings.
As the wind scatters my soul
Across the pavement,
My mind skitters into gullies and corners,
Heaping up hopes like dried vermillion.
YOU ARE READING
Prickmedainty Poetry
PoetryFor all those who broke their glass slipper and still search for stars in the shards.
