Gusting winds,
November rain,
Then the snow,
Leaves come drifting down,
To fall on woodland floors,
Carpeting the ground in layers,
Where they fall,
The patterns are formed,
Like a mosaic art piece,
For the squirrels to explore.
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To write a thousand words, How one feels, But cannot find those eyes, Who would read, A message unread, For a thousand years , Maybe in anot... -
Sat on a path, At the dawn of the day, Cross roads in sight, Thinking which way, To the left or to the right, Or straight ahead towards ton... -
A Robin flew to a tree on my path, This was fate , It was meant to be, He sang a song, In his merry way, Only a few will understand his wor...