poem 3
"fall"
fall again
with amber leaves
the smell of death
to the warm breeze
cold gusts of wind
to chill the bone
the greeting to the creatures
who all walk alone
fire, blood and rust
line the colors of the trees
wind will soon be violent
as the roaring of the seas
waving back afourth
from the cold but gentle breeze
wind chimes blairing
like the ratteling of keys
this is fall
back another year
everything seems serin
wile this season is hear
Joker Rose