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Rekindled in Autumn
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Fantasy It's slowly nearing autumn
when the wind blows ginger breeze,
and gilded golden skies provoke
the changing of the leaves.
Morning spirit's waken then
to the candles dimming glow,
as rusted swing sets squeak, and sway
gently to and fro.
It's when the misty graveyards grumble,
and the gourd vines tangle posts.
do lovers seem to find each other
in the form of ancient ghost's.
Surely moons go quickly fading,
as the sun soon claims the sky.
Until that is when darkness falls
where lovers never die.
