Gone
The black-eyed Susans
are gone,
the question of fall
has begun.
Winter will arrive
at last,
the scarlet summer
is past.
We've filled our sacks full
of spun gold,
and been enraptured by the tales
of fantastic stories told.
Now outside the window
of our heart,
we see
the cold snowfall start.
Friendly fires
fade,
as do the plans in youth
we once made.
Illusions of summers perfection
shatter,
with the weight of things
that no longer matter.
The black-eyed Susans
are gone,
they've sung their last
sweet song.
Even fall now
is nearly done,
a chill in the air prophesies
winter has thus begun.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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