Often we see someone, meet them, hear them, read their words and we are transfixed and feel we would give up everything to have a moment with them. Then sense and circumstances cools the fire and it dies out leaving just smoking embers. At least that is what I read into the word perfect poem on the page Jacob.
The autumn leaves in all their glory... may have an orange
glow that consumes a lover who happened to fall head over heels
for the splendor of dancing with the wind in a free for all romance.
It was only yesterday... the leaves were green with blossoms.
Perhaps it is best to wait for Spring when earth and sky will help
you survive. gently, Pat
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..