A Walk Through a Fall Wood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A thoughts of a fall wood.

Submitted: August 17, 2012

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Submitted: August 17, 2012



I love the feeling of ink-stained hands

after a wonder is made.

I love the feeling of ivory keys

under my fingertips

moving fast, but quiet and staid.

I love the grossness of sweat-drenched clothes,

it shows my work and what I get of it.

I love the rush of your mind racing

after getting lost in a dream, a little bit.

But above all I most like the fall,

not the death, but the magic of it all.

The fact that someone so strong

can lose the things that went uncherished for so long.

The fact that they are now bare, 

fighting against a driving wind.

But was it really the tree who sinned?

Or was it put to the test, 

dating back to the ages of old,

against that horrid, shattering cold?

Or was a reason made, not to kill,

but to give it a stronger will?

The beauty that is seen in the fall

is a message that must be learned by all.

For whatever power winter and fall brings,

the leaves always return in spring.

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