Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
A myriad of views from the window pane sparks buried memories. August has always been that Augural Month the time of Achromatic colours, painted as  crumbling stone walls from a bygone Age. Ice wine drank from the rind of the gourd ranked sour, a season's poor worth - nature's tithe ? The colour of the meandering  smoke discernible from my window, will count  for more  promises like a laden Kaleidoscope apart.
0
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Windows
A myriad of views from the window pane sparks buried memories. August has always been that Augural Month the time of Achromatic colours, painted as  crumbling stone walls from a bygone Age. Ice wine drank from the rind of the gourd ranked sour, a season's poor worth - nature's tithe ? The colour of the meandering  smoke discernible from my window, will count  for more  promises like a laden Kaleidoscope apart.
antony-glaser
Written by
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem