Yet, it
is endless....
It is
summer’s end,
Slow breeze as hesitant
as the unwilling,
Whimpering
of this life,
Morning
fresh
showers
as throbbing
as
the wake up
call,
in my
chilled room
and my
cosy corner;
the fallen leaves
as if dissociated from
their no cognisant stems
search a haven on the
land;
how many walk upon
merciless on those
deserted ,lonely, vagabonds,
another whiff of
autumnal
force, the heaps
are
driven desperate to a corner.
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