The Fall: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

"The Fall"

These leaves fall down twisting and twirling through the air of a yesteryear breeze; covering the ground of a youth past.

There is a peace found in the aluminous sun set on high; during the fall; is time for all; raped in a shawl; walking through the woods; all the colors match some grand blueprint of the imagination.

Only in fall will she visit at all; only while the leaves are turning burning thoughts of our past.

Feeling her kiss like dew upon the wet grass; carving are names in trees; feeling moor in love thane ever before; hoping the fall will never end. If it does, then I will remember the time I spent with her in the fall.

By John McKinley Pride Jr.
12/30/’96

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