I still think of myself in the summer of my life, but when I do reach autumn I plan on being a...
November Rose
Blurred lines between Indian summer and Father winter.
Most released their fragile hold on adornment
-thinking their time had come-
leaving the remnants on paths to crunch underfoot
or in yards to be relegated to black bags.
Muted cardinals and glossy crabapples
stand alone on their barren branches.
Some paid no heed to the initial blasts
retaining embellishments of fire
standing prideful among the naked.
Small blossoms timidly peek from
weeds browned and brittle,
a small splash of color-
only seen by those who care to find it.
Blurred lines between Indian summer and Father winter.Most released their fragile hold on adornment
-thinking their time had come-
leaving the remnants on paths to crunch underfoot
or in yards to be relegated to black bags.
Muted cardinals and glossy crabapples
stand alone on their barren branches.
Some paid no heed to the initial blastsretaining embellishments of fire
standing prideful among the naked.
Small blossoms timidly peek from
weeds browned and brittle,
a small splash of color-
only seen by those who care to find it.
Yet – this pink rose stand as if the seasons 
never change,
it blooms willing icicles to try to drop
from hearty petals of silk.
The audacity!
to glow in the grey and burgundy
allocated to season proper.
By Kristen Inman
11/17/09
never change,it blooms willing icicles to try to drop
from hearty petals of silk.
The audacity!
to glow in the grey and burgundyallocated to season proper.
By Kristen Inman
11/17/09
1 comment:
its beautiful,really. you have amazing talent
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