Susan Willmore Poet Verse

Fallen Leaves

The leaves on the trees turning from yellow to brown 

     With a stiff wind soon on the ground 

     Rustling, rustling 

      A pile of leaves so neatly collected 

      Beckoning me so they're not neglected 

       Rustling, rustling 

       I jump I jump so gleefully 

      In a daze of joy so peacefully 

      To which I must admit this practice I adore 

      Now the leaves askew and beckoning no more 

      Until next year my beautiful foes 

       Rustling, rustling as the wind blows

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Samuel Otieng July 8, 2017 at 3:07 PM What a nice poem. I like it.

John Leong July 8, 2017 at 10:57 AM cool! i could actually see some leaves, red, green and yellow amongst the ground. nice read! and distracting too! cheers!

Sunlite Wanter May 16, 2017 at 6:52 PM Like a child playing! Welcome to PS. Susan Willmore May 18, 2017 at 9:24 AM Yes, life is short, jump in the leaves