Journals

On The Edge

She sways on the edge of summer's demise
Rain falls like needles from grey August skies
And the droplets of soul that streak from her eyes
Sink like the sunsets, gone never again to rise

Autumn comes with a whisper, the red trees her crown
The raindrops her footsteps, the ivy her gown
The leaves of her hair turn a rich, brittle brown
And crumble to clothe the bare streets of her town

But then warmth from within, a blossoming starts
Of joy and exuberance, of radiant art
And the spark she once lost pierces deep through her heart
Like a spear of sunlight telling the clouds to part