Golden my streets
but it won't be for long
for though sweet are my words
quite short is my song
They look lovely right now
when the sunshine is bright
but lacklustre in rain
and leaden at night
And as winter creeps in
my songs peter out
for I run out of lyrics
with gusto to shout
and my golden turns grey
as the music it dies
for instead of the carpet
hard frost often lies
I stole some summer's magic
kept it back a while to hold
to rekindle momentarily at least
these days when fades the gold
All too soon I'll be forgotten
as lacklustre my waste is laid
and the sun will stay hidden
til come the winters' fade
I can't quite believe November is here
the year has sped by so fast
the Spring and the Summer merged into one
with a warmth we all hope will last
Not going to happen for much longer I fear
as Winter waits in the wings
and Jack Frost's remembered his repertoire
with the cold stuff all of that brings
But for now with green just starting to turn
and the sun still strong in the sky
I'll cling to the vestige of summer still here
and not wish the Autumn rush by
There's promise in the Western sky
this morning here I think
for as the sun begins to rise
he's tipped me here a wink
No letting go to cooler times
not yet and not today
as we cling on to summer
though the Fall's not far away
I have a mind’s eye picture
of autumn here to find
which I’d like to share with you
and hope that you don’t mind
For though it’s one of fading
from a summer that’s now passed
it’s also one of hope
which I know is set to last
And though the darkness now appears
earlier each day
it’s good to see the summer lights
still twinkle here I’d say
For even though it’s cooler now
they speak of pleasure past
and keeps the memory intact
ensuring it will last
Pale-white shrinking golden glow
hovers over water slow
and morning waking slumber stays
as it peers slowly from the haze
Whimsy holds removed I see
a world at distance wistfully
as summer fades to distant glow
and cooler days I soon will know
A curtain call as evening falls
and summer into winter calls
Yet tangible with treasure hold
the Autumn swan-song bathed in gold
Momentum carries me forward
into the heat of the day
for a warmth that summer belongs to
with feeling mere words cannot say
It’s the season I always long for
Its comfort a tangible thing
Its presence to hold and cling onto
for a smile and a reason to sing
Winter’s grey-cast clouds have passed
and Summer’s child is here
to bring us hope and merriment
and fill our hearts with cheer
This child is full of freedom
speaking freshly of the truth
which every year around this time
gives nature’s hand its youth
Summer’s child will not stay long
but with a flair and fling
as seasons through the years have sung
for Summer’s child is Spring
Crystalline clarity out there today
in the treeline over the way
A frosting has covered the fields overnight
with beauty mere words can’t portray
So I’ll not waste them here but contented instead
I’ll quietly stand here for a while
and let Winter’s wonder embellish instead
that picture in mind for a smile
Yes, there’s beauty in winter
I’ll give you that
But, no brainer given the choice
As between both of these
Quite opposed to the freeze
it’s the summer in which I rejoice
In the park there stands an old oak.
I know not how aged it is,
But it was here before I was
And it will remain long after I do not.
Every morning I pass by its thick trunk,
The oak waves its branches, goodbye.
And every night I drunkenly stumble home,
It’s standing still, in silent judgment.
Even when I dash past and miss its farewell
In the rush to catch the last possible train
To $9.50 an hour misery with no future,
I know the stoic oak is standing there,
Gayly laughing at my fleeting and meaningless struggles.
There’s blossom in the bushes
even though it’s now December
And I know it’s been quite warm of late
but you’d think it would remember
That winter sun although still bright
deceives with days of chill
and Spring is several months away
with quite some waiting still
And around about this time of year
when winter’s settling in
The days are getting shorter
and I’ve started shivering
It’s then I think of summer
and wish that I was there
When instead of wearing jumpers
my arms and legs are bare
Poet's Corner 