November 1, 2010


Swirling leaves in the brisk air
smell sweet and wet, lost their green

Pumpkins carved, once shined so bright
are now memories and mold

Short days, rusty sunsets turn
fast to cold and smokey nights

Two figures woven tightly
together, cashmere sweater

One in his thoughts, the other

© 2002

1 comment:

The Grunt said...

You were always good with words.

P.S. A backward poet writes inverse.