Monday, October 11, 2004


Each day now carries
its message of change,
written on a falling leaf
or a frosted window.

Autumn speaks with the voice
of birds in fervent flight,
wings spread upon
the faith of October.

The wind-tossed leaf--
does it too yearn
to seek a land
of eternal summer?

We can follow
only a little way,
the leaves and I;
only a little way.

Stephen Brooke ©2004

can't allow Miss Sherrie to outdo me in melancholy autumn poems now, can I? :D

1 comment:

Sherrie said...

I still win the melancholy baby!