Rusted Autumn

Full of looming fruit The black wind whispers the children lived blithely yonder in blue cave The silent river protrudes by the forked road where the seagrass grows The seagull mutely follows jaded in evening sun old church bells whisper chimes Coolness and Autumn play in lonely chambers Sacred blue chimes in plaid footsteps The rusted window rattles to the graveyard on the hill The legends are foretold twig like, the people remember the dark ember days of spring