Picture courtesy of forum.chatdd.com
The leaves fall
and apples bob
As bats fly
flitting above
And shadows and mist
do play and dance
As you turn
a backwards glance
Sure you are of
being watched
From outside your
window, vegetable plot
But shrug it off
you do
Putting it down to
autumn blues
But as you walk
away
Something reaches
from the grave
Behind the window
she tries to touch
This spirit who
has lost so much…
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Posted in: Poetry
Posted on October 1, 2013
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