Sad autumn, the woman of the chill,
Sits by the window, her heart quiet and still.
Clouds drift beyond in an endless sky,
While raindrops whisper as they softly sigh.
With each tear, a veil wraps the night,
A shroud of silver, dimming the light.
Leaves dance in spirals, surrendering grace,
As the forest stands still, in this tranquil space.
Softly, it gathers the fallen with care,
Laying their grandeur on pillows of air,
Woven from whispers, a lullaby's thread,
In the hush of the woods where the echoes have fled.
Birds in the branches, in slumber they stay,
Dreaming sweet symphonies of yesterday.
With blankets of comfort and tea steaming bright,
Dear Autumn, don't linger in sorrowful light.
Time slows to cradle the deepening blue,
Carrying thoughts like feathers anew.
In each fleeting moment, a beauty unfolds,
In the rhythm of raindrops, a story retold.
Autumn s Sorrowful Light
© Copyright: Лариса Сенегал, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124102400476
Свидетельство о публикации №124102400476
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