Rippling Mirrors Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Rippling mirrors morning
Yellow roads ahead
Winter without warning
Made my roses dead

Now there´s time of evening
Kisses of the cold
Temperaments in a swing
Depth of frost unfold

Grays of shadows close
Murky hours calling
Wintriness morning rose
in window drops falling

Like my love that is lost
On to the past of days
Deep hollow earthly frost
Each its pleasures ways

Rippling morning´s glowing
In the clouds going by
Everything is now going
From its fervor high

Yesterdays were giving
All the things from heart
Now new times are living
In their pathways depart