PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The world has filled with seas
composed of golden leaves,
dotting every strident lane
and valleys leading far away.

The air is growing teeth
that gnaw upon the breeze,
but the sun is always strong enough
to chip the ice off of our gloves.

And when we started walking,
it was then that you had caught me;
lost in thought and shaking down
to the beast beneath our once small town.

But it's only just the seasons,
says the doctors we believe in.
We're sure to trust them even if
their vacant stares remain transfixed.

And so the fall descends upon
the poor house and the pantheon,
enveloping them all in grays
with tattered streaks of charcoal base.

I'll make my progress 'til the cold
can force me to contain and hold
my arms across my heavy chest,
scratching throat with every breath.

Then I'll still and liquify,
or rather I shall multiply
my inner self and inner wealth
and lack of truest sense of self.