November Touch
The blaze of summer is long gone,
music of rustling leaves I hear
through the window on the fawn lawn,
as autumn scene fades, I see clear.
Sky sparkles with sapphire allure,
brown grass bends on auburn meadow,
silk clouds drift with formless contour,
sip scarlet sunrays, and they glow.
Thin thickets trap tinge of sun blast,
bronze leaves have long begun to fall,
hued web on them won’t ever last,
for they now hear the winter’s call.
Touch of November’s last warm glow
I will soak to the full, and hold
as a treasure and let it flow
in frozen time in winter’s fold.
________________
November 22, 2021
Syllable count : 8 per line (HMS)
Contest : November Or December Quatrain Poem
Sponsor : Caren Krutsinger
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2021
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