GHOST of Summer still felt in the incipient
REIGN of Autumn, the footpath below stained
MOSSY – Slippery When Wet, as the signs say. The
TIMER of Winter isn’t far from signalling its alarm.
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ludic verbosity for the win
GHOST of Summer still felt in the incipient
REIGN of Autumn, the footpath below stained
MOSSY – Slippery When Wet, as the signs say. The
TIMER of Winter isn’t far from signalling its alarm.
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Nice one, Mike. I always really like poems about seasons, the passage of time.