The Meadow

The Meadow

A meadow full 

of memories, 

the faded colours 

of summer, rest 

upon the skeletal 

hands and leaves, 

for summer whispers 

to autumn:

‘For now is here,

take this,

my time away,

for I wish not 

yet for Spring, 

for fall 

and sleep

I must,

to dream again

come May.’

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p1964km@googlemail.com