Howardism Musings from my Awakening Dementia
My collected thoughts flamed by hubris
Home PageSend Comment
Side Note

Hmmm… my poems do seem to shrivel like apples as I age.

Autumn Poem

Light
Emerging from crisp Autumn morning
Is rich, golden, fecund
Fertile in the face of ever approaching
Death

Tell others about this article:
Click here to submit this page to Stumble It