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.
Copyright © Clint Greenhowe | Year Posted 2022
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