Autumn of my Years
A poem
A poem
The leaves of my days
now tinge and curl,
wisping away
as autumn’s breath blows cold.
I shiver in the morning frost,
feeling time’s chill
deep in my bones.
The harvest is in,
the fields now bare.
I have reaped what I have sown.
My basket overflows
with memories
now sweet and ripe,
bitter seeds long gone.
.
While evenings come quicker
as sunlight fades,
footsteps become slower.
Though some warmth remains,
the slow rutted earth
feels icy to my touch.