She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

The Last Barefoot Day

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A dark day
And then a bright one
A day of twisting turmoil
A tempest travesty played by the South Wind
Against a season trying to turn
All the sullen gray broken
And changed again into day
Asking nothing more than light
A splendor on the long unkempt, still green, grass
Aglow and warm with the memory of Spring
And a promise for a new Spring to come
A great day, blue-bright blustering
An introspective day on the edge of Winter
Autumn, too swiftly unfolding
A rare day
A warm day
A barefoot day
...The last barefoot day... Perhaps
At long last

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