He was beautiful, so much so that I dreamt of him.
His hair was of the leaves frolicking on branches in the cold breeze, not yet ready to dance to the chilled earth below.
His eyes like the meadow in the early morn' as the dew glistened off the foliage.
His voice smooth and clear as the bubbling brook.
As graceful as the deer that roamed.
Walking with conviction at every step.
His laugh chimed like the bell by the square, strong, bold, and bright.
Fashion on point.
Sweet as honey with a bite of pepper.
He wore a sweater that autumn, my autumn boy.
And then, just like my dreams, he was gone.
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My Poems
PoetryMy poem app went to hell so I'm posting all my works here from now on. They are a mix of types and a lot are sad.
