Friday, September 24, 2010


You beckon me to take your hand
Unwilling, I complied
You softly kiss with restless wind
Each farewell tear I cried
Then you draw my down-cast eye
Up to the wooded hill
Where ripples of your artistry
Arouse a sudden thrill
With second tenderness you brush
Your scent upon the dusk
And in this pleasant evening hush
I’m drawn in to your brusque
And yet persuasive, splendid arms
I’m not sure what to do
A victim of your cunning charms
Autumn, I love you too

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

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