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Age Autumn Poems | Age Poems About Autumn

These Age Autumn poems are examples of Age poems about Autumn. These are the best examples of Age Autumn poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Lyric |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

Memories on Branches

How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or  dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.

Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.

Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.

Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies,  under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |

Cairns Edge

The beach gathers its dead. Thousands of horseshoe crabs
come home on the full moon’s tide. Their courting dances, 
scrawled with claw and carapace in the wet sand, leave
with the ghost hands of nursing Autumn wave.

Their nests of jewel-colored eggs, covered and soothed
seasoned in salt sea, gestate beneath a slurry of debris.
Right side up each skin colored husk with its barbed tail
rocks in the bubbling broth of Cape Cod’s bay.

Belly up, they appear as an open invitation to the plovers
who flock overhead and arrow down en masse to dine.
Piping plovers, masked in black, hopscotch through the
detritus, connoisseurs of this turquois egg-like caviar.

Among the life and death of sea we walk, barefoot, and 
cautious wary of the scramble, the jutting barbs, the bits
of un-soothed glass, the desecrated cairn which barricades
the dying life from the living sea.  

Published First in Sounding Review 2015

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Grandpa's Autumn

bird songs drift through the tall Autumn trees and
photographs are floating in my mind and conversations echo 
in the deep, crumbling amber gold leaves falling 
an old man with a walker gets into a car with gnarled hands that I love
blanket on lap  magnifying glass  words blurred meaningless  
raging river view with cold waves crashing, remember the pier Grandpa
ahead is the endless winding road to nowhere
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
bird feeder on the deck, tweet and twitter, twitter, 
staring for hours, Grandpa where did you go  a little boy fishing off a pier
playing with your leaping dog  hospital bed in living room
at the dining room table   cannot hold the fork    let me help you Grandpa  
sparkling sun on the water   kids jumping off dock   fishing
long ago  echoes    falling red leaves... Grandpa   Grandpa 
water dripping, oh see the rain on the window  blurred fragments  fall apart
gulping for air   cannot breathe  the birds are at the bird feeder  singing
darkness and silence   peacefulness   glittering sun
yes Lord I am ready  . . . . 
empty hospital bed  empty wheelchair   girl weeping at the window
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
oh every bird song drifting whispers to me of you 
April 26, 2016

Free Verse

Inspired by the song:
Autumn Leaves, by Natalie Cole

For the contest, Golden Oldies, #2
sponsor, Teppo Gren

Second Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Life's Autumn

As in a dream an angel shines On pieces of heaven drifting In the mind of times of A life’s savored memories. The mists of falls gone by Of schoolbooks, woods, And dancing leaves You and I under old oak trees. Do you remember that weathered place We played house, enjoying china teas? We, so refined, so elegant In an old Indian summer. Now as I warm my tired old feet, Close my eyes, turn to yesteryear, And meet you in my dreameries, In life's autumn, I am, I am content.

Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Twilight Whispers

Quiet as twilight when i am in the mood
Breathless tree standing still in the wood
Casting shadows behind as long as i could
Night has come, knocking gently on my door

Dead calm appeals me to live for a while
Away from the dust and the madding crowd
Where the water moans, and the wind does wail
And when the light fades, in darkened shroud

Dead is the calm, it's time to behold the sky
Just in the mood, so sad, it's time to cry
Still sleeping birds, that stop to fly
Death has come, another day is passing by

The stillness of twilight takes me back to my past
When, being a child, i would run windward so fast
And leave my footprints, with a track of hazy dust
Oh! how sad i feel, if i only could mend the rust

Stillness of the twilight makes me watch the west
When, ablaze is the sky, the sun sets down to rest
Night falling slowly, stressing the pain to last
Dark shadows whisper softly, now they are cast

The stillness of twilight is a GOD send
Grasp it before it slips from your hand
Pick up your pen give it poetic twist
I take delight to write when i am feeling *triste*

Triste: French meaning = sad

Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2015

Details | Masnavi |

In the Fall

               In The Fall… 

Wait for love until Fall,
nightingales they will call.
Nightingales are divine,
they sing drunk with no wine.
With all eyes wait and see,
how do trees will be free.
How do leaves find their ways?
When they fall nights and days.
They will wait until Fall,
all of them short and tall,
All of them search and seek,
with no words, they will speak.
Falling leaves dance and fall,
autumn wind calls them all.
When the leaves falling fast,
they do hope that they last.
They will fly in the air,
golden leaves everywhere.
Until each find their love,
in the air sing like dove.
When they fall, hope to touch,
with no lips kiss too much.
Kiss and touch in the Fall,
their last dance after all. 
Then they sing autumn song,
every leaf sings along.
Love is there in the Fall,
God knows that I recall.
Wait for me in the Fall,
Love is there I recall.

 7/19/17          “Haloo”

The painting is acrylic on canvas called "to see".

Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Debutant's Lament

Summertime…they say the livin’ is easy,                                                
Flowers growin’ and the sun’s sittin’ high.                                    
They say your Daddy’s rich and your Momma’s so good lookin’;               
So hush now pretty baby…there's no reason to cry. 

One of these days, you’re gonna rise up smilin’.
Take a look around and think you’ve got it all.
You’ll have your Momma’s looks, all your Daddy’s money,
And all the boys in town at your beck and call.

Summertime…Yes, the livin’ is so easy,
Laughin’, singin’, havin’ so much fun.
No time to stop and think about your future
And what life will bring when Summer’s done.

‘Cause Summertime, it don’t last forever.
Breezes cool and the leaves begin to fall;
And in your quiet moments, you'll sit and wonder
How you came so far, but have no love at all.

Summertime....They said the livin’ was easy; 
Ain’t it sad how fast the good times fly; 
And now, your Momma’s looks and all your Daddy’s money
Another sweet, warm Summer’s day they cannot buy. 

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Imagism |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex

Copyright © Gokul Alex | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

All That's Sure Is the Season

Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.

To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?

What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.

Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’. 
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season

Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.

A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.

So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.

Approaching the winter of my years, 
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


Abundance of life
Home to extinction

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tanka |

Old Girlfriends

just frozen memories
where belong
still fish in the meadow pond
just sit casting a bare hook

Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Cold War

A series of hello’s, and only that;
We are each other’s familiar stranger.
Those glances queer yet unsuspecting,
My soul begins to wonder-
My thoughts, they dance and wander.

A careful denial to a careless disregard;
Surrounded by a wall t’was built amiss.
A trap in a non-existent black hole
A suffocating sorrow-
A melancholic hollow.

Your deep-set eyes and glimmering iris
Don’t miss the warm facade
Of a beautiful countenance
But a sombrous ghost I long to know-
My curious and subtle soul.

Your perfect golden smile,
And then, presto, it’s gone.
The mystery of your avoidance
And the dreaded war of silence-
The war that’s non-existent.

Oblivion is no excuse to ignore each other’s presence
But still confined for decades
Behind the walls we put up
For our souls to only converse in silence
As we are a series of hello’s and only that.

Copyright © Cheri Teng | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.

Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Autumn Love

Our Autumn Love

How many ages past as I recall
An image of my brawny self to quell
The ominous fear of growing old soon
What, Pray, intervenes to recast that spell
Voluminous love of feeling and touch
Render to me your body with lust
Crushing embraces and wet kisses on
your soft and flaccid skin, your oily shine
Give impetus to move my palsied hands
Across your bare exterior to soothe 
and utter sweet expletives in your ear
Our eighty plus years have not bound our souls
Just a brief sojourn to the climax of love
©Ralph Sergi April 21,2016
*This poem is not necessarely meant to be sensual
but as a message to seniors that love whether
 physical or spiritual should be the  last thing you enjoy
 until your dying day. 

Copyright © Ralph Sergi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Rakes and Flames

As the dawn expells its authoritive cast; they awake, but are abandoned. They
turn--but their friend the sun ignores  and they understand.   They commune
their relationship and part with their memories;   and sigh.

They say their good-byes in a tone of fullfilment, but aface their anxieties
toward the skies for hope; but are denied. A clouded sky brings a chill in the 
air and a rustling of rakes and flames. 

Old as hell, written in HS for publication, circa 1971 by me. When I was young in the 60's in Ohio, we burned leaves in our backyard; sometimes our household trash too. You had to be me to be there GV. Count me in as last place. Take care.  

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

The Door is Always Open

Things get bad, then they get good again.
You can write yourself angry.
You can write yourself sick.
But never
should you write yourself sorry.

The world, to me, is many things:
A canvas, a movie, a place to store
everything you are and will ever be,
but never a bell jar.

As long as your hands can shake
and your voice can quiver,
never close the door.

Love the ground under your feet,
and your only sadness 
will be that a blanket of sky 
can't keep off the cold. 

Smile with every breath you take, 
and you'll realize that, 
no matter how much you weep,
you will never fill an ocean.

Look inside your heart:
There's answer there.
You'll find,
deep in an oblivion of night,
there is a light somewhere.

It may not be much light,
but it's brighter than darkness.
Follow it.

If you seek, you will find 
yourself always involved in 
and as long as that door never closes,
whatever something will be enough.

I promise.

Copyright © jes russick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Old Age

The autumn of life comes upon sinner, saint or sage
          Holding the soul in withering body’s bondage

The birds of beauty, charm and vigor long flown
              What a profound calamity is man’s old age

Copyright © Mohammad Yamin | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |

Autumn Leaves

The falling leaves
drift by our window
in autumn days, we now behold
We spend our time 
with autumn flowers
and dry crisp leaves 
of red and gold

Since we left our spring 
the days grow short
and soon we'll hear old winter's song
But we'll miss the golden years of autumn
when winter snow comes along

From spring to fall 
we both did follow
our youthful joys of long ago
and now with days 
when leaves are falling
we face the time 
of winter snow

Autumn days are short
and yet we know
a song of love for us still plays
Though we'll miss the golden years of autumn
our love will warm our winter days

Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: Write Me A Song
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Judged: 10/12/2016

~2nd Place~
Contest: Gren's Evergreens (Golden Oldies)#2
Sponsor: Teppo Gren
Judged: 05/22/2016

I used the same Lyric form, number of syllables and meter 
as in the original lyrics displayed on the site as only two stanzas 
(but I doubled the stanzas to four in my poem).
"Autumn Leaves by Natalie Cole"

Lyrics printed on site:

The falling leaves 
drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, 
the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands
I used to hold

Since you went away
the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Details | Limerick |


Aged wings with fairy sound
Swirl as colors gather round.
Many more fill the air
Glide as grace for all to share,
Final rest upon the ground.

Copyright © Richard Breese | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |

Mirrors Age

As morn braces against the emptiness of night
And cock crows echo in waves of yellow light

Fallen mixed colors brush along the coarseness’ of stone
As fall would have them, these leaves of gold

Age as time moving swiftly through coveted hope
Laid far along twisted roads, yearning there and then
to be not parted here, have alas a distance near

But what of it, who so best to have it, more!

I tire now on thinking further, 
and would love to simply settle
On piles of leaves bright along the way
To answer no more
to things that must stay

‘Cause with any wisdom here,
I would have experienced it there
On piles of leaves I will stay, and rest a time 
before another day

And should it be the last of things, then so be it,
for I would have had 
what it was before its last,
and what more can I ask -
to take on roads we can not stand

Copyright © abel olivencia | Year Posted 2014

Details | Enclosed Rhyme |

A Meadow For Autumn

when eve doth fall upon summers’ end, 
   a hint of splendor bequeathed arose
upon firmament as changed scenery 
   (this third equinox act since new year) bellows
basses loaded and blasted in sync with pyrotechnic pizzazz,
   while orchestras suites scored for cellos
thus quiet riot of multitudinous notes swirl 
   from each bronzed leaf like fellows
dancing elliptically forsooth greeting mother earth 
   with char rills brawn son hellos.

how peachy keen and grand to be seated 
   at plum lined tree center stage 
to behold the colorful capering downward spiraling threnody 
   quintessential silent rage
chapter three if nature alluded to 
   as a tome poem – and now the first page
known to humans since…way before indigenous tribes 
   occupied North America such as the Osage
 and/or other natives, whose keen scents foretold
   the onset from flora and fauna sings they did gauge.

now the regimentation of existence commandeered 
   by strict adherence affianced to the clock
lest an employee arrive one second late – 
   her/his pay will go hickory dock
which sequestration to the twenty first century life 
   analogous to men undergoing emasculation, 
   whereby he may as well be a eunuch
without thick horn, where business 
   deals concluded as overhead a flock
of seagulls migrate to southern climes, 
   which with global warming seems ad hoc
yet the multitudinous animals and plants 
   genetically under rubric of life lock
which mucking around viz industrialization 
   humankind doth make a mock
‘ere re: and drive many miniscule species 
   to take safety and shelter under a rock
totally oblivious, those bipedal hominids haphazardly 
   scurry to work in order to purchase schlock.
thus this pre dormant season, 
   where one must be vigilant and tread 
like angels heeding curtain call 
   draw wing summer to a close 
   with damn the torpedoes salvo, 
   the cacophony kaleidoscope of color 
   per fifty plus shades of red
forecast thee onset of cooler temperatures 
   with falun gong foliage natural compost    
   shelter burrowing creatures, who stash goodies 
   at a later time to be fed
thus each of us need be vigilant 
   with no misstep to tread 
upon feet lightly negotiating 
   whereat dwells busy itty-bitty bodies
well nigh invisible to the naked eye, 
   yet if ground swell of organisms
   once would behold a microscopic whirled wide web!

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |


Standing young and tall
And then
The Fall
Like an autumn leaf
Bright to changing colors
Then dull, broken and dried up 
Down into the earth

Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Moon War

This is as simple as it gets
The truth displayed on blank pages
Lies on the written ones
For you, for me- the wages
From fighting this war are meager
And it seems that we are eager
To leave this hole we are in. 
Can we write a new story?
Nothing is happening but nothing
Can prevent this unbecoming glory.
Winning was never an option we
Had considered in the first place. 
But to actually have victory 
Would be kind of the one we call fate. 
This is as complicated as it gets
Food turns to drink in moonlight
But still we cross our fingers and
Hope that a beam could be our spotlight.

Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

the dozens of hands

How beautiful she was ! 
When she is sparkling in the queue of  displaced
How sincere her sadness was !
As a poem by black and white
I am waving and call her
And scanning my hand  
After the queues break up 
In that cloudy afternoon
We are sheltering in a small restaurant
And sit side by side
With Her purple light dress
Her small body 
And her ruined spirit 
She was talking to me 
Long silence between sentence and another 
I respect it with equivalent silently 
She broken my silently every time with fabulous moan
I felt like I was in church
She was yellow
and weak 
like an old book 
I said :  
Do you born in February 17, 1979 ?
She said
Do not try to pressure on the wound 
You will need the dozens of hands !

Copyright © Dia Alshirqati | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Silver Tongue

His fingers left blood on the strings 

but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything.

Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish,

His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create.

He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood.

But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write.

He wrote every tear

He scribed every star

He built towers from mountains with every line

High enough that the angel’s just might hear them.

He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears.

He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn

And make you feel the chill on your skin.

He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears

If they cry, it makes it all more real.

He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end.

The loss and the gain,

But not those of monetary nature.

When life begins to scream around him

All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza.

The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this Strength a power.

Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation?

And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough?

Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

The spinster and sycophant

How could a man be so cruel, i was thinking at deep
How could one make her weep , i was thinking at deep
she was a  spinster,,and it was all she made for her
the abiogenesis of emotions never grew as she met a  sycophant
it was all abnegated as she was a shrew,
 while he was a taciture with a misogynistic heart
 She was all fastidious but he always had a belief ...Nothing is IMPREGNABLE ENOUGH

Copyright © KAMRAN RASHID | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

long days of the past

i speak trouble yes
i speak trouble
late night rumble
very quiet mumble
summertime symptoms
slipped in subtle
suddenly i want to see
the warmth right before
the crunching of some autumn leaves
too hot at noon, makes the warmest evenings
writing on walls, illegal to draw
remind me of nights, all fear was small
bliss and inner peace
abundant as dinner treats
everyday i made away
with darker skin, and dirty feet
heart disease not bittersweet
park and freeze like little creeps
when passerby, might quantify
activities, helping secrets to keep
no such trouble yes
no such trouble
all the wonder, many lovers
i wrestled and played with shovels
pedestrian and landlord
i rummaged through the rubble
pasta without sauce, and gallons of tap water
vaporizing sacred flowers
that smell of exotic jungles
worries never entering
my vision like a tunnel
fleeting as a hummingbird
never ashamed to cuddle
never new a softer word
never cared for struggle
running free to paradise
cause my license priced had doubled
delighted to ride a bike
rain reason not to huddle
traveled all i sought to see
carpool or a shuttle
impermanence just a word
pouring down the funnel

Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2013