Sunday, April 11, 2010

time to tarry

fell is the swoop of my word against yours
autumn, caught 'em
how the rhyme finaled the end
with a swathe of reds, oranges,
tongues of cold wind on our napes,
the music of dead leaves beneath our young feet

4 comments:

SAM said...

The colors of autumn describing the pain... beautiful!

ןıuǝ oɟ ɟןıƃɥʇ said...

crimson flames tied through my ears.
rollin' high and mighty traps.
pounced with fire on flaming roads...

ʎonqʎʇıɔ said...

what happened to "we talked once"? it was so plath-ish. i love it!

Patti said...

That's one melancholic autumn you got there. Nice.

Thanks for the blog visit by the way.:)