Regretfully rushing through recent leafy falls
rustic remembrances, sadness fills my space.
a place where gladness should gaily go
a merry go round of muddled mind.
rooms rife with idle thoughts
throbbing through the aorta of my soul.
breathless, heaving, start believing
slowly sense the season gleaming.
inhale the scent that Autumn brings
temper the anger that inwardly sings.
J. Poet 7