Autumn
Another walking among seasons and holy beads
As our thoughts moves clouds in a grey sky,
And paint the leaves above our heads;
With a priori color of serenity, your eyes try
To open the white gates of transparent joyous morning;
The air got the scent of hot apple pies, the smile -a meaning
Of what the fingers are touching and what they are dreaming;
Are those our guardian-angels who silently walk by?
The rain of the morning tea falling from heights;
A new painted bench seemed to be almost dry;
White statues sit on the grass near the brave knights;
Two angels with glass wings have just learnt to fly.
But, leaves` procession under the kiss of the wind;
Buds of faith and hope live in philosophical mind.
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2013
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