POETRY BOOK THREE: Your Writing Hand

I think that I have had enough
Of what is called a summer’s day,
It didn’t even get that hot,
But it was summer anyway;
Though winter’s nearer than we think
And Fall is coming in a week,
The kids are going off to school,
A squirrel had nuts packed in its cheek
To hide away up in its nest;
The maple leaves are turning gold
And though it’s still warm in the day,
I know the morning’s turning cold,
And soon the frost will form on leaves,
And leave its patterns on the glass;
I light a fire to these thoughts,
I know that wintertime will pass,
To bring me summer once again;
Though in the cold I’ll wonder when.

|| My Poetry ||