Sotto Poet Poet Triolet

Notes About The Poem

Growth Cycle

Winning light, summer's abate autumn's cold. 
Just a short distance around the corner. 
We never believed we ought to grow old.
Winning light, summer's abate autumn's cold. 
With haunting souls through agony and gold
Time spent, memories formed, air of scorner.
Winning light, summer's abate autumn's cold. 
Just a short distance around the corner.

Written: March 2nd, 2023

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Michelle Faulkner March 2, 2023 at 2:12 PM We never think we will grow old, but it happens more quickly than we think, very introspective write~

Demetrios Trifiatis March 2, 2023 at 1:16 PM Delightful play with words, my dearest friend, Lasaad! Be blessed.

Sara Kendrick March 2, 2023 at 11:19 AM Ahhh!!! Well, it is quite a few months before autumn again here, but I am in either late autumn or early winter of my life. I could apply this one in two ways. Thanks for sharing and for dropping by my page. Sara