4424
Mist Upon the Placid Morn
Skelly247
Bleed out your beauty, Autumn :: Give me a gentle wrist, and smear :: Your bloody hues stop the green. :: :: Cast a caliming throw of heady peace :: Upon the cooling land. :: And as you grant the sun a final fling or warmth, :: Charge the silent air :: With earthen whiff to intimate the fungal push. :: :: Soon you'll send a shiver down the watery spine of I am not suppose to tell, but i am writing a poem now, i would like to not be disturbed I am not suppose to tell, but i am writing a poem now, erase I am not suppose to tell, but i am writing a poem now,