There's a chilling parallel
Between the twirling leaves
And the times remaining to me.
These foggy, misty mornings.
These warm days grown colder
and shorter...
The crispness cannot last,
Soon it will be cold.
No longer will the grass rise,
No longer will the birds sing,
No longer will the sun shine.
Soak in today.
Flood your eyes with color and shape.
Surround yourself with the ecstasy
of joyful feeling.
Tomorrow and forever come as soon as winter.

by Margaret Gaffney

Other poems of MARGARET GAFFNEY (2)

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