Blowing past joy, frowns, young and old,
Crashing upon concrete, hard and cold,
Souls, malleable metal twisting to return,
Tears unnoticed without the sun’s burn,
Left vulnerable – white, to stain by decay
Despite early rise, west still ends the day.
Lungs releasing a potpourri of heart’s lament
For days falling to another year’s descent.
Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.
Note: This is for Bastet’s Pixelventures: September 24, 2013: Autumn.