False Coloured Leaves

False coloured leaves like Spanish thieves whisked away by gentle breeze as they rustled in the eves frayed but not forgotten even though the wood was rotten

False Coloured Leaves

False coloured leaves
Like Spanish thieves
Whisked away by gentle breeze
As they rustled in the eves

Frayed but not forgotten
Even though the wood was rotten
Before the limbs were bound to break
One last glance upon the lake

Luminous spears of speckled light
Glisten in the peaceful night
Beyond my window it was dark
I could feel the beating of my heart

Icy splinters bitter winds blow,
Upon the crest of fallen snow
Tiny twigs that fell to their fate
Much to heavy a burden for them to take

Bristol fires burned, beneath the churned
Freshly brewed coffee brewing in the urn
Before the drawn was sure to rise
I found it to be, such a pleasant surprise

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| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy