Autumns Grace

Roses under my bruised feet, Led a trail to your defeat With a circle traced around your eyes We continue to frown upon each others lies Cringing beneath the burnt leaves Orange and crusted gold lines We stand among the people Who have felt this cold air before? Do not question the earthly hallow The grave my dear, you dug to shallow For the rain it will gather upon thy crown With the pink flesh and soon to be out of breath I abide you ado Farwell the gentleman of grace And pondering hearts combined We feed the crops that are parched You quiver in the wind With that you take me home And wear your child’s grin A smell of wonderful ambers burning The night sky becomes dimmer As the flames die down Our breath becomes thinner As you reach for the cracks in the ground