Autumn's March
At sunset the sky rebels
into gray.
The clouds become stained
with orange, fighting the approaching dark.
The dark will win - temporarily -
and the days will march single file
off on the wings of autumn,
barefoot and happy, heading towards heaven.
And I,
I shall sit gently watching it all pass by.
Awaiting my time,
to quietly follow,
these marching end of days.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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