Sweet summer’s breath fades,
Green life pierced through with autumn’s blade;
Time has weakened season-old leaves,
And the wind with careless ease,
Plucks them from the yellowed trees.
But beneath gold sun-strand curls I find
The memory of blue August sky.
And on my lips
Soft and blushing fingertips.
In touching you I try
To hold the brightest star,
To contain its flame and fire
As it burns my hands—
But your soul is too precious
To give it back to you.
Caresses and kisses,
Nurture buried wishes;
A shaft of happiness
Scatters autumn mists.
A promise of beginning
As warmth and freedom ends;
A lifting of my heart
As the last leaf falls.
--------------------------------
My first poem in a while. And I used punctuation!
----but did it work, i wonder....
