| Older Poems | ||||||
| by Mike Monroe | ||||||
| The Coming of Autumn A breeze brushes past, gleeful and cool. Clouds are wool puffs in the azure heavens. Birds chirp and whistle simple love songs. Leaves are streaked with green and scarlet. The woodlands are flirting with all of their charm. Why aren't I in love? Back to Index E-mail the Poet |
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