October

Awash in gold, in crimson, lost
October whispers my name — softly sings it,
sleepily dreams it

Alas, winter spins her frosty lace
warm-cool shivers feather my spine—
amber-frozen forever

Our sighs paisley the morning air now
October slips, pink-cheeked. Slides headlong
through slick leaves: damp, brown— fallen, down

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I'm a writer, artist and designer who thinks way too much, and tries to see the beauty in the world. View all posts by Elaine Olund

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