Too soon the fingers of December
Have found me here in September
A chill tug at my sleeves
A whisper of crimson leaves
Head huddled, pace quickened
The days of my life tumbling by
Wind blown leaves
Against September's leaden sky.
Where has summer gone?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem Seamus..your September chills have well expressed in these lines..10
Thank you, Rini! I always appreciate your comments. Keep warm!