Their flesh like mine will wrinkle,
Their green turn to brown,
my brown turn to grey.
We will all fall, as the seasons pass,
but we will drift slowly and freely all the way.
Filed under Poems
Tagged as Fall, Poem, Seasonal
A lovely poem not only in content and meaning but as good poetry should it generates an emotion by use of imagery. Thank you x
I’m glad I could make you feel this way! 🙂
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