Good bye my swimming pool
My eyes gaze and drool.
Autumn passing its baton
To winter's far-reaching talon.
It is odd this lament from a fool,
A poet isn't sane or cool.
I miss my summer's salon,
Leisure heads back to school.
The book of life has drawn
Under my yawning lawn,
Slows down to restart my spool
These words from my poetic tool.
Like salmon upstream fight to spawn,
And life flexing its built in brawn.
October 11,2012
Copyright Leaking Pen 2012
Rev Nov 14 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem