Time changes with life and life changes with time.
October grows too old,
Hobbling backwards
With the burden of years,
On the sinuous alcove of time,
Tenebrous and feathery,
Her hidden lamps blinking furiously
At the silhouettes of wasted days.
The wasted leaves of autumn
Break forth and dance down
......
Rain pours against the windowpane,
As all the world has gone gray,
With dark skies all the noontide,
And foul weather keeps us inside.
Like vivid autumn leaves fallen,
Once exotic dancers on the wind,
Soon dead and buried in snowdrifts,
In keeping with the rule of the
Seasons, one dance in golden sun!
Like the afternoons daily dying,
......
They fall from grace to grass,
aged, scorched and dehydrated,
fluttering away further
the vanity of previous
greenness and elevated times,
reminding us of the fragility
of life,
the futility of striving to hang on
when time is up.
a walk in the wind
in the fresh, fragrant season
vivifying breaths
a walk in wildness
sunlit hair is in my eyes
disorderly blooms
a walk in chaos
that keeps the pinwheels turning
......
chicago cuties
tangerine days of summer
when noon redbird sings
cool burst of sunshine
from the fridge of hot august
its dream turned to dust
flowers are flaunting
crisp tomorrows coming soon
......
January chills, a frosted scene,
February thaws, with raindrops clean.
March whispers spring, green shoots arise,
April showers paint the sunny skies.
May blooms erupt, with colors bright,
June days stretch long, with golden light.
July simmers, fireflies aglow,
August dreams, with rivers slow.
September sighs, leaves ablaze,
October twirls in fiery daze.
......
Autumn was next witnessed
Through the eyes of a coquettish October,
The somnolent month that spreads fast its
Mat of diffused pleasure.
And should there be a tendril pulse,
Let it hammer the flesh of youth, who
Witnessed through the eye of a dream
The hasty coronation of Autumn —
The crowning of promises belching
......
Autumn was first seen from the
Lens of slumber,
Frozen on the lane of thoughts
For the living-dead.
Framed on the loose, huge secretions
Of essence,
The womb of Autumn, slack and grey,
Let fall the perched maple leaves,
(Borrowing the yellowness of northern
Diseases and the redness of a soutenuer's eyes —
......
The garden of my mind is broken
From the nuclear winter
Caused by the fossil fuel of doubt
As spring. a season of rebirth
Creates an oasis of love that repairs the garden
It will never be the same
But enjoyed by the past
I was a classic 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, in mint condition, admiral and white.
My owner had other beautiful, classic cars, like stars sparkling into twilight.
My owner loved his old cars, saying 'they don't make them like they used to;'
And I enjoyed getting out upon the open road, to show him what I could do.
My fellow cars and I saw lots of sunny days, in bliss freedom of the flowers,
Traveling the length and breadth of this land, in the clasp of jeweled hours.
Flighty friends and I recalled 'good old days,' in rosy sunset times of finally,
......