Lie down lass, with me, in sage green meadows
Your blouse flouncing open, in the teasing breeze
The meadows, feel so cotton, this time of year
Come lay beside me, and sense my desires.
I'm taking a walk to the cemetery this morning,
be back before noontime for crumpets and tea.
I have two friends who died not so long ago;
they were brothers, treated me the same.
Comes the cold, black, Death of Autumn,
harbouring its' pique on naked limb;
stirring damp, feral winds
to the hawking, stalking,
Simon makes it all come together, perfectly,
placing antiques 'n curio's on dusted black shelves,
window-sil ledges with geometric widgets,
navigating his world, by touch, and by texture.
Where were you when the Maple trees died?
Where were you when their leaves fell and dried?
Where were you when Nature's Mother's just sighed,
With a wink and smile to Autunns beguile.
At Evers Creek, behind the redwood barn,
a mystery still travels on by near and far,
like the rush and rip of the Creeks dark hole,
as it did the night it swallowed twelve Souls;
I watch you as you sleep,
Feel a warming breeze pass your cold, still lips;
An essence of florals, and my eyes affix,
On the bleeding heart draped upon your silk, blue gown.
When Mirrors Cross Your Eyes
What has happened to you?
Originally written for my (then) 12 year old daughter
on her challenge for me to write a rhyming poem in
In this Autumn of the year ther' be image
Divinité illustrés....Oui, l'utopie du Poète.
Flecks and shades, a bleeding hued spray
Of Summer's closure...'cross the causway