Memories of My Youth

I walk with willing feet up the mountain to an old cabin. At last, it appears! Hearing sounds of the covert spring fountain brings rushing memories of the last years. Flowers in the garden bower still bloom. Yellow leaves, or none, or few, do still fall. Days are brief, flocks of starlings and rooks loom above migrating in the midst of all. While it holds memories of my poor youth; I can still hear faint sounds of long ago. Oh, pleasant times long since, at times they sooth, when I was rather young, I loved it so. Autumn; around cozy gold ember glow. A mountain cabin all covered with snow. 9/30/2018 Poetry Contest: Give Me Your Best New Poem' Sponsored By:Emile Pinet