This autumn speaks to me in terms of pretty lies
I ache for leaves and yellow gold of smiles
What welcomes me to day, is rainy grey and dull.
The crows, my friends, seem silent by themselves
They mind a business dark as rotten smells
I mourn, for no one cares to wipe the nature's sulk.
Oh, grass! Still green, untrue like all the rest,
With flowerbeds still blooming at their best
I dream a spell to make the lies go null.
A city dweller down from head to feet
I woe the sullen greatcoat of the street
A nightmare sight of concrete-bare skulls
Oh, dear me! A daydream or a hunch,
My stomach churns after an early lunch.
This autumn feeds us trash in crusty apple pies.
Autumn never lies
© Copyright: Коридвэн, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112100904495
Свидетельство о публикации №112100904495
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