Cloaks of Brown
The trees are naked now
Branches shiver in the wind
Bold strokes of orange
Paint the purple sky
Brittle grasses cling together
Backs turned to the chill
Like monks at prayer
Clad in cloaks of brown
Landscapes in decline
Mourn the death of flowers
In garden graveyards
Tears of rain weep upon their seed
It is gone, I feel the pain
Of summers loss, beauty spoiled
A single rose, pressed within my pages
Sustains me til new seasons are regained
11/29/2011
Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2011
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