Wouldst take my leave
On autumn’s eve,
When hue of winter
Finds fall perceives,
Fashion a whisper
Of winter’s weave,
Will have us surrender
To the pallor it conceives!
ode to a passing summer
whisper
“ The Wind ” ~ that whispers ~
Listen to the wind,
Softly whisper
Its chagrin,
Anxious tales
Harbouring sins
Of men for sale,
Who wile us in,
Won’t hesitate
On but a whim
To devastate,
Hid in the whispers
Of an angry wind…
Thus as wind wails
In mock reply,
A sadly echo
Of tortured cry,
Tells be destined
Meant soon to die,
While a final whisper
Be the wind’s good-bye!
Poetry on a canapé 