The Truth Twirls, in....
Spirals.....
Like time.
Silently the seasons change.
And I watch.....
In awe and wonderment, of nature and,
her phenomena,........ at work.
As I see how her qualia, just abounds!
Lost in the melange of colours,
from falling, dying .......leaves.
That, swirl and flutter, on the winter's breeze.
To come to rest, in trickling streams.
Then later, as those red, yellowy, colours .....fade like rust.
Be .....now, hidden.
Neath a downy blanket.
Of fresh, sparkling snow.
Turning, the once, colour rich, landscape.
To white, with flecks, of blacks .....and greys.
The epitome, of an English..... winterś day.
Like an ageing lover who's ....
Grown old.
Their dreams now black, with mould. Being left to rot.... And crumble.
Like autumn leaves, turning.....
Eventually
to dust.
Giajl © Jim Love