Sprigs in rust,
red,
gold,
and yellow
are filling the meadows.
Falling leaves
are hurrying
to kiss
the crying ground–
who cares what abounds!
In the cold murder
of their dream to be together;
Again, reality,
is the ruthless killer,
Again, on the loose again!
Poorest wistful bliss declared:
Dead on the Scene.
Poorer dream: Unresponsive.
Poor gusty winds in cuffs charged:
Accomplice.
On a Friday Morning,
Forsaken trees sing elegy,
while dead Heart gives its own eulogy:
“Odi et amo-”
Her closing verse.
The bereaved are tearless;
while the Grasshoppers mourn like mistresses;
oh, but the crickets are speechless.
Guess, they’ve never seen
that much tears and tearless before.
Lyrics, Sentiments and Me 
Very nice Aina. Your poetry seems to be evolving and becoming more creative, evocative and soulful. 🙂
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I’m getting old that’s all. It’s nice to hear from you. Can you imagine how much people love you, Brad? Amazing! And there are men too. I’m so proud of you really. Thank you!
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Thank you Aina. I didn’t really think people had that strong of a feeling for me or my work. It’s nice to know you (and others) care. I appreciate you. Hugs!
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The feeling is mutual. I meant everything I said. And I’m proud of you; how you blog–from your choice of topics, the variation, and the type of readers you have, Brad. I believe they’re fine men and women–very humbling.
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Thank you and Happy Holidays! 🎄🎅
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Sorsorry Brad.
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??
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You can follow, or unfollow as much as you want! As long as you visit once in a while. XD Happy Holidays!
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Brad, of course not. Anyone can do that to me; but I can’t do that to anybody especially someone who’s been so kind to me. Sorry if I offended you.
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