Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Listless Season

I retired in the morning,
It was half a day too soon
And the larks called out a warning
By the soft, enshrouded moon.
On the terrace in the garden
I was yet inclined to be
Half a human, half a creature
Of the sweet and silent sea.
In the mist that broke the twilight
Leaves danced out across the lawn,
Amber-chested, golden-threaded,
Smattered with the strokes of dawn.
In the august of the morning,
Should I seek a distant shore,
Frost, like diamonds, are adorning
Every slick and seaward door.
Season, with your signs of coming,
Leave me now a shard of warmth,
And perhaps, when you are older
You will know my listless heart.

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