Cold and rainy, windy and gray,
it’s the other kind of autumn day.
Colorful hues now go unseen,
memories fade of summer’s green.
The chill reminds of a time that’s near.
In shades of white we’ll spread our cheer.
Then a year that’s new but just the same.
Resolutions made but just buy name.
Spring will come and usher rebirth.
Warmth’s to follow; we feel its worth.
Then back to autumn, life will change.
We know it’s coming but it feels strange.
Another year has come and gone.
Some rejoice, some will mourn.
Each year bringing a new surprise,
how it’s seen is through our eyes.
The day was long, the night short.
Arms embrace for support.
Work was taxing and taxes due.
Trinkets bought but just a few.
Pillows help soften the blow.
Blankets warm from head to toe.
Legs intertwined and bodies askew,
it’s fun to try something new.
Perspectives change in new light,
loving eyes improve our sight.
Peaceful slumber finds its way,
the perfect end to an imperfect day.
It begins a story without an end.
It’s a tale untold but it will be penned.
There may be no heroes or villains to see.
It could be written for you or me.
It might be a song or poetry.
It may be undervalued but never free.
It could be too short but can’t be too long.
Perspectives vary between right and wrong.
While some chapters weak others will be strong.
Some may possibly rise above the throng.
Some parts will be happy, some will be sad.
There will always be both but that’s not so bad.
Note always the things that make you glad.
Notice the trends that aren’t just a fad.
Honest words lived you’ll need never defend.
And when the cover closes you will transcend.
Assuming today’s to be the last,
yesterdays are only the past.
Tomorrow’s come to fast.
Accepting every day’s the same,
nights pass, the day’s to blame.
Tomorrows come as yesterday came.
Acknowledging all’s new,
yet lacking yesterday’s clue
Tomorrow’s risen oft black and blue.
Anticipating each day’s the first,
yesterday’s filled quenching thirsts.
Tomorrows pass endlessly submersed.
Assuring each day’s bright,
yesterday’s end with good night.
Tomorrow simply see the light.
There’s a change in the air,
its felt everywhere.
Will it be warmth or an icy blow?
Outside’s to venture to ever know.
The future nears,
with future fears.
The past’s a guide,
or where to hide.
Scrambled thoughts shaped in rhyme,
shadows mask the light of time.
Moments killed, perspective’s born,
clearly focused or forever torn.
Doors lock, window’s seen,
vistas vary with a lean.
Steps taken never still,
ups and downs, want and will.
At a point all paths meet,
minds move not feet.
Hearts feel, hands express,
lips promise; life’s a guess.
Full moon glistens on a rippled sea.
Reflections dance ever-changing and free.
A path’s illuminated for us to follow.
Horizons await our tomorrow.
Hidden in Plain Sight
A trusting person,
most always seen trustworthy.
No trust, see themselves.
Time’s always trying.
But better to try and fail,
unless failure’s known.
Among the obtuse,
some angles draw focal points.
Perspective’s the Point
love and share to forever grow,
rebirth’s far too slow.
Ills to Frills
Hate kills and love thrills.
Words will chill with fiery quills.
Never still pays bills.
Hatred in the heart
cedes peace to heat in the head,
when one dies, two dead.
Ocean breezes howl, the seagulls soar.
Frigid waves crash on the rocky shore.
Yet the morning mist rises above it all.
And foggy eyes see everything’s small.
Life’s perspective is
our palette to draw from when
all points lead away