PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

on this dark, cold, damp november evening,

the cold cruely hits on us, for no reason,

all the 'leafs' that surround my stockinged feet,

a small secret it seems, now that wont keep.



they all resemble the tears that ive wept,

as they settle on my cheaks as you sleapt,

like the wind that sweeps up thoes 'leafs,'

you wake and wipe thoes tears from me.



my tears are a reason for the 'wrong' pain,

for it is 1 and 5, till we unite again,

the wind has blown thoes 'leafs' away,

so at my feet the sorrows will not stay.