Again I see the leaves turn colour Vibrant yellows, reds, greens and browns Like burning embers they fall to the ground, Not yet snuffed Cloaking the grey street In their living-dying promise Of a barren tomorrow Reborn in springtime Again I wait for flowers to come, The birds to sing The sun to hail a
Tagfall
My Induction into the Teenage Cliche: A poetry series
A poem to the boy who owes my heart some heavy-duty patches, and soon, before it heals all crooked For awhile you were happiness A type I had never tasted before Somehow familiar – like nutmeg and cinnamon, fragrant and warm – But somehow, with laughter words a body and soul Your taste