Just For You Poetry

Dying days of fall,
imprinted on my mind;
rain and fog and color,
of a subtle, gentle kind.

The coolness of the morning,
the wind that scatters leaves;
the passing of a season,
so quick, it almost flees.

The frost will come too soon,
and goblins will appear;
Thanksgiving, Christmas day,
a then...a brand new year.

Time flows like a river,
racing through a canyon;
some dreams are left behind,
and some, we just abandon.

Life...fading like a flower,
whose bloom was yesterday;
grass turns brown and dies,
and nothing golden stays.

Time passes so quickly and sometimes it is all a blur when we look back..

Beautiful and poignant write about the most beautiful season.

Thanks for the comments, Stella and Seema!

Time does pass way too quickly. This is a beautiful poem.

Thanks Cindy.