Pencil Stubs Online
Reader Recommends



By John I. Blair

In late October
Brown leaves drifting down
Put a frown upon my face.

Summerís gone
And will not come again
Until next year.

No more midday heat
To soothe my aching bones
And bask my skin.

No more blazing sun
To purify the world
And remind us where we live.

Itís a time to think of endings,
Melancholy thoughts,

But so long as trees bear seeds
That drop in autumn
To propagate their kind

It will also be a time
Of beginnings,
A time of hope.

©2017 John I. Blair, 10/2/2017

Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


Refer a friend to this Poem

Your Name -
Your Email -
Friend's Name - 
Friends Email - 


Horizontal Navigator



To report problems with this page, email Webmaster

Copyright © 2002 AMEA Publications