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As a gift

 

Late October in England

a silver afternoon

is fading,

the scent of wood smoke

hangs in the air.

A chill autumn breeze

worries the leaves

off golden trees.

 

In this silent room

at my scarred oak desk

I carefully carve

my yearning words

into an imperfect shape

to give as a gift

to a beyond perfect you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
6 Comments

Posted by on October 28, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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