Autum by T.S. Hulme
A touch of cold in the Autumn night— I walked abroad, And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge Like a red-faced farmer. I did not stop to speak, but nodded, And round about were the wistful stars With white faces like town children. Thomas Ernest Hulme
Introspection In Evening poem – Amy Cavanaugh poems | Poems and Poetry
I acquire the sensational psychology in me Which reliably wraps my mind and me Up in a blissful blanket of yarn – Hand-knitted by Creativity herself. Heater-like – The blanket bathes Us in a glow Of what light feels like. My mind and I breathe united as An inseparable couple. Friend-like – We gleefully greet […]