 | | 2011-10-04 09:06
From blog Amy Nelson
moon shape with strings,
Autumn is licking the willow's bough. Clouds hang over our tresses, and frost blankets the old sod.My papa made home made pies.. Sugar shells folded with peaches, strawberries, cinnamon, and syrup. (The belly folds are here to stay folks.) Autumn air brings shapes onto paper, as I pardon my blues through poetry, and prose. "She said, do you know why the morning has dew, or why evening brings a breaking rain? So, your wet cheeks feel less alone. She told me, it would end, just as quick as the beetle turns, as the mud becomes river, but love is not landlocked. She said, love pours from the cotton garden, it is magnified humble pie, bait it with your poetry, but it...
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