Seasons Come and Go
Birds bedded down. The cool air circulates.
Whispers of crickets. The black noise hushes.
Yawns give way to tears - the ducts erupting.
An autumnal wave crashes over me.
It’s obvious how seasons come and go,
as mom’s settled in purple urn - the ashes
keep; without incandescence in her sleep.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
