She is an orphaned sigh of fall…


she holds a halloween broom
in wizened frailty
of a preoccupied grasp,
carelessly sweeping piles
of amber and burnt orange lyrics
withered from lips
of rustling wind-songs,
in hasty strokes~
oblivious to whispered poetry
floating in colorful swirls
tinged in dusty sighs
under her bare feet.

she has penury of fall-
its helpless silences scribbled
over her wrinkled complacence,
the cinnamon piquancy
of whimsical autumn echoing
in inarticulate susurrus
leaves her unmoved,
as lost in her introspections~
her pragmatic worries
about winter’s expenses
etching frowns on her quiet.

apple cider sweetness
of scented breeze of whimsy
leaves moments flavored in honey,
but this fails to dilute
the bitterness dealt by life,
clearing sidewalks
of yellowed, mottled molts
she yearns to similarly sweep away
all rancid ugliness
from cobblestones of survival.

the magic of autumn
leaves her weary thoughts untouched
she grips her broom as an anchor
in brewing tempest storms
yet nascent in wombs of balmy evenings,
seeking to hide behind facades
of abstract woes,
her soft gaze unseeing
while abstract graffiti thoughts,
paint rainbows in lives
parched by blazing summers.


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