Deep within the forests
Atop the mountain peaks
There's blue and green aplenty
But less of other hues
Crimson burns the brightest
Of the rarer shades
It quickens in the sunset
And marks the death of leaves
For crimson's fleeting beauty
Foretells beauty's end.
3 comments:
Love your poetry, TD. I don't know where invisible keepsakes comes from - maybe I could google it.
:)
but the beauty of crimson makes the death that is winter seem worth it. but it's a bittersweet feeling- knowing that it doesn't last.
Beautiful!
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