Poem - Autumn
On the coach journey to London, the greyness of the sodden landscape took its usual toll on my mood. As a way of deflecting the gloom, I scribbled a brief piece of self-parody - my dislike of any months which aren't July or August is such a cliché! Let's send it up:
Autumn
Leaves fall and spirits drop.
Dark skies lie like sickness on the soul.
Wear we our brighter hats
and warmer scarves,
but -
till the light of Christmas
breaks its dawn across the blackened world
I cannot be consoled
for this Autumn,
this Summer Lost,
this coma of the sun.
Autumn
Leaves fall and spirits drop.
Dark skies lie like sickness on the soul.
Wear we our brighter hats
and warmer scarves,
but -
till the light of Christmas
breaks its dawn across the blackened world
I cannot be consoled
for this Autumn,
this Summer Lost,
this coma of the sun.