I Dream In Poetry Poem by Barry Middleton

I dream in poetry
and all the colors of autumn.
My days are haunted with nuance,
the insinuation of a mockingbird,
hot luscious sun on my face,
the flash of wet, feminine eyes.

A day in thirds is music.
Morning tunes the day,
then statutory noon
utters its canto
till a liquid violin sunset
weeps with passion's colors.

I dreamed in spring
and green gold promise
was a betrayal of hope.

Summer has gone,
lost lilies drop their seed
before the cold wind turns.
I dream in poetry
and all the colors of autumn.
Forgotten songs echo hot nights
and memory's kiss.
The music has died.
Blind day gives way
to dreams of falling leaves,
and softest night
to carry them away.