Autumn Rapture
Autumn is a woman. Bedecked in gold and crimson, hair
Upswept, serene, she warmly glistens till capriciously shaking her
Tresses loose and imbibing northern winds, she begins to
Undulate, and underneath a streaked
Magenta twilight sky, this loveliest of
Nymphs then beckons you. . .
Rhapsodies of memories not played since long
Ago rise up in you. Old
Passions never quite forgotten swell your breast. Surrendered
To, she can unleash in you. . . feelings yet
Untapped. But all too soon, her
Rhythm, tenuous, recedes, and all who have ever been
Enraptured, must face the old man Winter’s cold embrace.
An oldie
for the 'Any Acrostic of 10 to 12 lines' Poetry Contest of Line Gauthier
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