Autumn Poem by Ronald Shields

Autumn



When there is nothing left to say
I will brush the cobwebs from my soul,
this rusted dented old soul.
Unfurl it, let it catch the freshening breeze
-a leaf waving goodbye to its season,
gone to join its tribe on the last breath of autumn,
waiting for the ground to break its fall.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Ronald Shields

Ronald Shields

New York City
Close
Error Success