The Mould
I wake up to this early Autumn sky
Watch as the waxwings and sparrows fly
So small but so much effort a purpose and meaning to live
The autumn sky's above me now and the leaves are on the ground
A smell that's fresh is in the air and winters coming round
These things before us a something a beauty to behold
But you my precious Angel
The one whom breaks the mould.
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.
