untitled

regrets of summers end....

 

Ah, melancholia

Thy name is winter

Compass me not about

with your barrenness

Assail not my summ'ry spirit

with your visage austere

your oaks stark and naked

shrouded in skies of gray

do sap my joy

my weighted soul is pressed

in measure

from it's frigid white fetter

it seeks solace

in blessed hope

that springs eternal

as the red breast

of springs first robin

---

 

Reviews

[Tennessee]

Nice old time feel it to with the language. Not a bad way to describe the changing seasons.

[fugitive]

thanks for the comment, Tennessee....I'm really not a fan of winter.....