Best Dawdles Poems

Mosaics of gold and crimson;
follow the last migrating duck.
And barren soil littered with death;
stripped of its grandeur, turns to muck.

Autumn dawdles well past its end;
no longer painting leaves with light.
And as scarlet inks the sunset;
twilight slowly morphs into night.

Murky cloud banks of charcoal-grey,
blotter icy blue...

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