Ahead lies a blanket of white,
Twisting into the horizon.
Behind a fading memory of green and blue skies melts away.
Now I stand by this crackling leaf,
Color smearing into pavement.
Air bites at the goosebumps on my skin,
Tasting me as only Winter can.
I will hold to these last strands of Autumn,
As lovers parted by the nature of time.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.