Bereft Poem by Morgan Michaels
Bereft
Wearily Summer turns
from her image in the sea
Wearily I linger where
shadows overgrow the way.
A timid wind is in the tree
The sky is red behind me.
Ahead, the dark is filled with dread
and whispers of mortality.
I linger wearily.
Youth behind me drops his pace
turns away his perfect face
and will no further go.
Hesse
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/19/2024 1:41:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
