Poem of the Day by Alan John Hewitt for Modern Ned Publishing The clouds fall without grace while the ducks play with an iron gate. Rusted and old the hinges worn out and stuck in place by natures glue good old Rust. The long days of Summer are coming to end as the Gods of Fall set up camp on the edge of Summers domain.The rain has a chill about it the fog thick as jelly on toast, The dreams are trapped under the apple tree and the ghost wait for the spirit to be released from the chains of life. The poet writes his lines while the artist waits for better light to paint with. Its an cycle of ups and downs in and outs nothing ever stay the same it seems.
Posted on: Mon, 16 Sep 2013 14:08:32 +0000
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