It is almost too cold now
To be in the tops of trees
Shivering in snagged mittens
A woolen over coated ornament
Like black spotted fruit
Gone from sweet to bitter
Whipped by Autumns whining
Amidst garrulous planning birds
Fall conducts her noisy birth
So you whisper “Good Night”,
Your lips pressed against the bark
For that is where the heart is
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.05 seconds at 7:37pm on Nov 05, 2024 via server WEBX1.