Poem Of The Week
Words on a summer-night I
really don't recall; you see,
dusk was coming quickly and
Autumn whispered palls.
Pallid days sans sunlit stays
leaf-limned and fading down -
still you spoke of summer tide,
limber-lit words for scorning mine,
of dusk or time or youthful age -
you spoke seldom of the dusk.
Words on a winter-night I
can't but now recall; cherie,
your voice's cracking faintly and
Autumn's long since gone.
Ashen days in snow-struck grays,
ice-rimmed and fogged by cloud -
still you'll talk of summer tide,
mistaking words of sun-hazed lies,
of dusk divorced from fading age -
for you the time's not past.
really don't recall; you see,
dusk was coming quickly and
Autumn whispered palls.
Pallid days sans sunlit stays
leaf-limned and fading down -
still you spoke of summer tide,
limber-lit words for scorning mine,
of dusk or time or youthful age -
you spoke seldom of the dusk.
Words on a winter-night I
can't but now recall; cherie,
your voice's cracking faintly and
Autumn's long since gone.
Ashen days in snow-struck grays,
ice-rimmed and fogged by cloud -
still you'll talk of summer tide,
mistaking words of sun-hazed lies,
of dusk divorced from fading age -
for you the time's not past.
