October.
Golden sovereigns on your trees.
Golden guineas on your floor,
golden coins of leaves that fall
for us to scuffle through
and rustle
and rattle
and hustle
and scrabble
and dabble
and paddle
as they fall
into an October carpet
which hides
our shoes.
Stopping for a drink of cool water after an afternoon of playing outside in the October sun.
<3 this poem.
ReplyDeletelovely!
ReplyDeleteLovely poem but all wrong for us in the southern hemisphere, it's spring here. Been here 7 years next April and still adjusting to the seasons being all wrong here!! :D
ReplyDelete