3 of 19

by G B Dent

Indian Summer

October rain will neither curse nor bless
When it scatters in a midnight breeze
Reluctant leaves that will come to rest
Beneath the tattered and mournful trees.

Some fall with their own, some alone.
While others with strangers will lie.
A fate where all of their kind are prone
To drift in the rain of October skies;

October sun has no passion to woo
In the casual warmth of a distant haze;
It contrives its view with a tarnished hue
That mocks what it soon betrays.

It will neither swelter nor shelter long,
But rather fixes on a distant shore.
Lingering where it no longer belongs
To remind us what summer was for.

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Poetry: As October begins

by G B Dent

Poetry: As October begins

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