Summer's gaudiest plumes fall prey to September's russet highlights.
Futile to fret, my love,
Futile to cry
My, how time’s measure of
More kens the sigh
Turmoil and tempest-tune
Tugs at the heart
Murmurs of summer-noon
Slipping apart
Hold me, my darling,
The nearness of loss
Keens the awareness of
Love’s albatross
Time runs its bow across
Earth’s violin
Darling, we feel its touch
Undo our skin
Futile to fret, my love
Futile to cry
We are all whispers of
Time passing by
© Janet Martin
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!